HeartWare
by Broken Oken
Summary: The comfort of his words somehow set my heart on fire, nothing he’d ever been able to do before, so I knew I had to believe him. I had to trust him because nothing else was telling me not to. MOLIVER, AU.
1. prologue: unintentional

**(everyone gasps)**

**Yep, I'm here with a new story! Surprised? Well, here's the catch--I won't be able to update frequently at alllll, but I've been debating releasing the prologue of this for some time, and a certain new HM episode pumped me enough to do so. Seriously, go to youtube and watch You Gotta Lose This Job if you're a hxc Moliver fan like myself. You will die of the Mollie love.**

**But yeah, the first half of this story is fluffy friendship/romance stuff, but the second half is more romance/drama/angsty stuff. So, yeah. Just letting you know in case you're confused about the genre 'cause I wasn't sure what the second genre would be best as.**

RATING REASONS--strong language, and suggestive themes, possibly some heavy...stuff. ;) haha, we'll see.

**ALSO, this is actually an original story I'm writing as an actual novel, so that's why it's AU. If you catch any names that don't make sense it's cause I didn't edit it enough. This also goes for if the characters are way too OOC. I tried to edit the characters thoroughly enough so that they would still seem like our favorite characters, but some parts were too hard because my characters are a biiit different, as in, a way more reserved Miley. So, uh, yeah.**

**I think that's all. lol. I talk too much, but I think it needed all this explanation now or I'd kill you in the later chapters.**

**Anyways--here is the beginning of my new story--HEARTWARE!**

**...After the disclaimer.**

**_I do not own Hannah Montana.  
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End disclaimer.**

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**HeartWare  
**by Broken Oken

_prologue: unintentional_

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Suppose the person you believe is made for you, isn't.

A knife stabs you. Straight through the heart. Not once, not twice, but a hundred times at the least. The stabbing doesn't halt when you're numb from the pain either because you'll never become numb from this feeling. Instead you're just going to black out, and when you reawaken you'll be stabbed again. You're going to be surprised to find that you're not dead, however. Yeah, something inside of you, more specifically, _your heart_, is going to be aching and burning; it'll almost feel as if the knife tore the organ out harshly enough to kill you. But, guess what? It won't. Instead, my dear, you're gonna sit there and be an unpaid actress—smiling the same smile you've been smiling all nineteen years of your pathetic life, as if nothing is wrong. But on the inside, behind the glitter of white teeth, is a heavy frown with an endless amount of tears, with no freaking bucket to catch them in.

Despite this feeling not being the death of you, you know what really sucks about it? There is absolutely no cure for that inward suffering. Honestly there isn't. Okay, so ice cream is about as close as it gets, but sadly, it's only a temporary fix. That's why girls eat so much of it—the longer they're eating, the longer they'll forget for that short amount of time that their hearts have been busted into shards of glass. So, this worthless feeling you got on the brain twenty-four seven, it's regrettably going to kill you eventually. One day you're just going to die knowing that person wasn't made for you—you're going to die with that same aching and burning you felt from the beginning. The beginning—that moment when you realized that for them, it's not _you_, no matter how many stars or 11:11's you've wished upon.

And because of none of those wishes coming true, you're also going to realize that in truth, there's nothing you can do about it. Fate decides everything, not you. Sorry. Because that person is going to be off with who fate chose for them instead—precisely, the person you're praying you could wake up as every morning who doesn't have to put on a show for everyone. The person who is happy because they got what you wanted. This person is the person that they _are_ made for.

Unfortunately, every single excruciating day, you're gonna wake up as _you_. Also known as second best. The unselected option. And then you'll cast the ceiling a menacing expression, cursing God for bringing that person into your life in second grade to show you that your perfect idea of a significant other does in fact exist, but they're not yours, and they're never _going_ to be yours.

Oh, well, except he _used_ to be yours. But does that even count—because you truly didn't even know it. You really had absolutely no idea that he used to be memorizing every one of your smiles, right along with the unnamable color of your eyes, and the shape of your lips. You had no clue that every hug you gave to him, he felt as if he was hugging the whole world. It's a shame. A damn fucking shame. Because what he felt once is what you feel now.

To you, you're his. But to him, she's his real his.

_How could you be so blind_, you're wondering as you go on with your pretend-to-be-happy daily routine. How could you not see all those odd stares he'd give you when he thought you were truly watching the television? Not to mention, those _billions_ of times when he'd hold you just a little bit longer and closer than necessary…

Wow. All the signs were there. He believed he was made for you, too.

Believ_ed_.

Yeah, sorry, it's meant to be in the past tense. Because fate's too cruel for you to notice him in _that way_ then, you know, when he would've jumped off a building for a chance to be with you. So fate decided, "Oh, let's have him lay eyes on the real person he was made for!" And suddenly, you were a faded dream to him. Nothing more than the silly brunette girl he'd grown up with, who never had a fucking clue.

It's a sick feeling to know you missed the opportunity, ain't it? Maybe if you hadn't had those invisible censors over your eyes to see the true intentions of his actions, then maybe you could've stopped him from falling into her arms. You know, fight against fate or something like that. Maybe he'd be kissing _you_ by the fountain instead, as you watch them do now. Maybe lots of things could be yours instead of hers.

They used to be. In fact, so many things were used-to-be's. For one, the two of you used to be inseparable. You just couldn't be kept apart. It was like trying to burn water. Sure, you could get it boiling and evaporating or whatever, but even when the water's all disappeared, you could always get more back with just another tweak of the faucet.

Now it's like, when you're separated, only one of you actually cares that you are.

God, you want to forget when _she_ walked into the picture. That perfect picture of which used to consist of only two people—two people that were never given a fair chance. _She_ had to be painted and sketched into that once flawless picture, and you were eventually torn out once your side of the photo became faded enough.

Huh. Maybe you always cared about him the way you do now. Wow. That apprehension's going to kill you twice as painfully. You could've always secretly felt something back for him that was beyond the border the two of you always surfaced on. It could've been so secret that not even _you_ knew about it—you hadn't even told it to _yourself_.

So, why did you realize the feeling now—when it's so _useless_? When feeling these feelings didn't change anything except _everything_.

Well, let's be honest, dear, you got older. Your brain grew some intellect, and you received a better understanding of how things worked in the world. Your education improved beyond the walls of high school. More specifically, big old scary college occurred. That once far away dream in junior high became a reality.

It's college where the chaos began. It's college where boys and girls are continually together, holding hands, grinning their insane happiness, continually showing you what you want and need to be yours someday.

…But it's _just _college. It shouldn't have brought about all these pristine and alien emotions. But then again, college has been known to teach you a lot of new things, push you in different directions, and unlock all sorts of new doors.

It sure opened one for me. Or maybe a door wasn't opened at all, and I was too in the dark about my feelings to see the flicker of light that had always been there.

God. I didn't mean for things to happen the way they did. I unintentionally made him not made for me. Without knowledge I was slapping him across the face each time I smiled at another boy. But somehow, at the perfectly wrong moment, I tripped, and then I fell; I spiraled into something by complete accident. It's no surprise.

It hurts, you know, because I don't want to feel like this.

I really, truly, one hundred percent did not, on any circumstances, mean to love him.

But do you know what hurts the most?

…knowing that he didn't mean to make me.

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**Short-ish.. but the chapters are all ungodly long, just trust me on that one.**

**Reviews telling me to continue or no?**


	2. fuzzy slippers work past midnight

**So... I really, really, really didn't want to update this. I only wanted to when I had the next two chapters after this one fully completed... but I felt like you guys waited long enough. Sorry for my horrible indecisive skills! They suck, I know. However, this chapter is pretty flippin' long, so I hope you enjoy... it's comical in my opinion.**

**Anyways, just a reminder that this is AU (so some things are going to be wayyy different), and this actually takes place BEFORE the prologue.. :)**

**But yeah, here you gooo.**

**Disclaimer: If it says disclaimer, isn't that disclaimer enough?**

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**HeartWare  
**by Broken Oken

_chapter one: fuzzy slippers work past midnight_

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Malibu blurred outside the window. The Californian sunlight was a laser into my eyes, and squinting, I nudged my sunglasses farther up my nose to shield them, but this was hardly any kind of annoyance to me. Truth be told, I honestly didn't mind a bit. This was the weather I believe I _lived _and could possibly _die_ for—and breathed in everyday carelessly—that "summer in the winter" feeling all year round… A breeze to tickle you in highlighted moments when the air is only just beginning to wield an overbearing heat…

Now… if only we could take the top down, and I could let my bouncy waves of brunette hair freewheel into that comfortable wind, with no constricting hair-ties or bobby pins…

Beside me, lazily gripping the bottom of the steering wheel with his left hand was a boy with up-curved lips. The gentle gust nipped at the dark hair idling just below his chin, and he, too, was sporting some shades—although his were three sizes smaller than my own, of course. His current, unused right arm was relaxed across our two leather seats with one of his fingers occasionally tapping rhythmically to the sound extracting from the radio speakers.

To anyone we don't know, his position could spark wrong accusations. To anyone we don't know, his position could imply an incorrect four letter word beginning with a "D" and ending with an "_ate_".

However, to everyone we _do _know, not a second glance would be thrown. Because only one completely heterosexual boy in the entire world would currently be grinning as goofily as he is at the 90's pop hit that had just popped up on the stereo system.

My best friend, Oliver Oscar Oken.

"Oh man, I love this song!" he shouted—_and maybe jokingly as well_—as I amusedly watched him twist the radio's volume knob hurriedly, and in an overly obnoxious voice began to, er, well, I guess what only _he_ himself would call "_sing_".

"Sometimes I run! Sometimes I hide! Sometimes I'm scared of _yooou_!"

By no means should Oliver Oscar Oken ever be allowed to quit his day job at the antique shop downtown to become a singer.

But I snorted anyways, probably encouraging the hideous noise he was creating, and then entering the song with my own over exaggerated impersonation, "But all I really want is to hold you _tiiight_! Treat you right!"

"Oh, _baby_!" he praised over my voice quickly before our two drastically different voices coincidentally joined together at the next two lines.

"_Be with you dayyyy and niiight! Baby, all I need is time!"_

We instantly broke out in hysterics, I think more at his approach at a "feminine" tone than at anything else, and abruptly, he adjusted the music's volume back down a notch. And though his eyes never left the road ahead of us, he still felt daring enough to tilt his head a little in my direction.

"Man," was the first thing he spoke, "you are seriously the _only_ person I would ever sing Britney Spears with."

"It's such an honor," I laughed, although my words still held true and firm meaning. You see, in front of everyone else, Oliver Oscar Oken was a regular boy with regular hormonal eighteen-year-old male drives, but I, on the other hand, was blessed—or _cursed_, whichever way you look at it—enough to receive the _true_ Oliver experience, the one where he wasn't afraid to admit he knew the lyrics to such a "girly" song, and also wasn't scared to try his hand at singing them out loud as well.

"You bet it is," he agreed enthusiastically with a pointed index finger. "And you—well, it just amazes me that you are _trying_ to sound bad, and you still—"

"_Oliver_," I interjected, my voice now cold since I knew the course the conversation would be taking. "Don't even start this today."

"Start what?" No clue what his opinion is, but personally I feel that his innocent tone did nothing for him. "Talking about your rad pipes?"

My stare was a mixture of both amusement and annoyance. "…_Rad pipes_?"

"Yeah!" he said with a confident nod, obviously not quite comprehending my afore- mentioned annoyance so I couldn't help but to slightly roll my eyes. "You have an incredible voice, _giiirl_."

Okay, so another part of the true Oliver experience is that I have to endure every quirky little irritating trait about him. Sometimes, for example, he does this thing where he tries to be, well…_hip_. It doesn't work for him or even suit him at all; the whole lingo sounds so unnatural. I don't even know why he keeps it up since I've made it clear a countless amount of times that all the behavior ever does is make someone (such as myself) want to bash him in the face with a fist or something.

I replied to his failed suave attempt with a snap of, "I have a name, Oliver."

His jaw hung a little, and I could see the mock-surprise before he spoke it. "_No_!"

"Shut up," I muttered, fighting off a smile. Smiling only provokes his irksome mannerisms, and though I love the kid, there is only so much of the true Oliver experience I can take a dose of a day.

He glanced at me again, smirking dangerously. Now when I say dangerously, I quite literally mean _dangerously_. Because that dumb characteristic smirk of his always means he's about to piss me off some way or another with his next line of speech.

"Okay, you have an incredible voice, _Miley-kins_."

And _what _did I tell you?

"Do you _want_ to die?" I retort.

"No, I don't, _Miley-kins_."

All right. He only calls me this horrifying nickname because he once heard my aunt Debra say it over the phone. How did he come to know of this, you ask? Oh, Oliver has just made himself comfortable enough in my home that he continually sneaks on my second house phone whenever _I_ happen to be on the first. It's seriously ridiculous. I can't get even an ounce of privacy when he's over—unless I'm changing, of course, since that steps on boundaries not even people as close as we are can take. Boys and girls generally don't look quite the same when unclothed, don'tcha know, and Oliver and I don't need to go testing out that hypothesis.

"I'm just going to ignore you now." My vision then landed on the automatic window button to my right. Perfect. I lightly tapped it downwards to increase both the wind's squall and, more importantly, noise level.

"Yeah, right, you can't ignore the driver," I _think_ is what he yelled over the loud booming of the wind. I also think he yelled it in what he calls his 'smooth voice', but like I mentioned earlier, Oliver could never have ownership to such a thing. "I could just kick you out of my car and leave you on the streets."

I swung my head to look at him doubtfully, and his face seemed to struggle to contort into anything intimidating-like at all.

"Well, okay," he finally muttered softly, "maybe I wouldn't do _that_ exactly, but I _would_ make you listen to rap the whole car ride."

"Now _that_ sounds more like a threat," I said happily, and his expression hardened.

"I don't get why you don't like it," he mumbled, not looking at me.

"For the _millionth time_, it's not music!" I declared exasperatedly. "It's just spitting nonsense at a ridiculously fast pace into a microphone. A freaking monkey could do it." And as an afterthought, I added, "_You_ could do it."

"I'll take that as a compliment," he scoffed. "Rapping _is_ a talent. Not everyone can pull it off."

"Oh, right. I could do it in, like, two seconds."

"Alright." Suddenly his hand reached for the volume knob once more, this time setting it to complete silence before a command of, "Let's hear some."

I narrowed my eyes. "Um, not right now, Oliver. Just like the guys on the radio, they spend like three months practicing their raps."

"_Aaand_ you would just suck at it, and you don't wanna admit it, right?" His expression taunted me with the same dangerously disgusting smirk playing below his nose.

"No. I just don't wanna waste my time."

Successfully I heard the music again, so I beamed triumphantly out the window, a proud smile to each of the buildings we passed. "Eh, you're right anyways," Oliver at last confessed to add to my pleasure…

…but then he went on, "Your voice is too incredible for it to be used on rap beats."

If I had been the one behind the wheel with a foot on the accelerator, this comment would have caused me to slam on the breaks.

"Oliver, _again_, for maybe the infinitely-ith time, _I. Do. Not_. _Have. _an 'incredible voice'."

"Bullshit," he argued loudly, and then upon seeing my frown, let out a fake cough. "I mean, bull_crap_."

Oliver knows I hate it when he cusses, and lately, for my last few days around Malibu, before I enter the unexplored region of Santa Barbera University, he promised that the cursing would try to be kept at a minimum. But I did inform him that if he ever got truly angry and pissed off—he shouldn't hold back. Because even when that happens to innocent ol' me, a few colorful words accidentally, er, 'slip'.

"Thank-you," I gently gave a pat to his shoulder, and he feigned a smile. "But actually, I _don't_." His mouth opened again, but I interjected his future rebut quickly, "And _don'_t argue because you've never even heard me sing."

"Wrong again you are, dear Miley."

I stared at him suspiciously. He wasn't smirking, but there was something about the position of his lips. They almost looked to quiver for a brief second. Did they _want_ to smirk, and he was trying not to let it show, or something?

"Yeah, okay, when did you hear me sing then?"

Even more odd was the sight of him vaguely biting his lip at the question—something he only did when he was nervous. Which didn't really make a whole lot of sense in my opinion. It was just a simple question that needed a simple answer, but he wasn't even replying, just sitting there, face pointed blankly to the road before us.

"Oliver? Waiting…?"

"Well—never mind," he said with a strange nervous twitch, "you might hurt me. And I don't wanna get in a car accident and _die_ when you decide to strangle me."

I raised my eyebrows. Now this _definitely_ didn't make sense. Why would his answer cause me to want to _kill_ him?

"Well if you don't tell me _now_—the car _is_ going in a ditch. If you catch my drift, snowflake."

"Fine, fine!" he surrendered to my satisfaction. "I—I went in your house a couple months ago, and I couldn't find you. Then I heard singing… and, uh, it was you," he cleared his throat awkwardly. "In… the shower."

I nodded my understanding, and continued to gawk at him, but the weird thing was—no further words seemed to be exiting his mouth. Wait… "_That's it_?"

"Uh, yeah?"

"What's so bad about that?" I asked, bemused.

"I don't know. You were in the shower. So, like, I didn't want you to think I'm some pervert listening to you in the shower or something."

I chuckled loudly at how embarrassed he seemed to be at something so silly. "Oliver, we're best friends. I wouldn't think that in a _hundred_ years."

Another unidentifiable expression went across his lips when I said that, but I had no time to diagnose it for my attention was quickly grabbed by a positive nod of his head. "I know. I was just being careful."

I raised an eyebrow again, leaning my head more towards him in a jokingly seductive attempt. "But it's okay to admit that I have a hot bod anyways."

However, he didn't smile immediately. At first his lips formed into a tight line, maybe for about two full seconds before it was replaced by a copyright Oliver Oken grin. "Oh yeah," he agreed. "I'd jump that _anytiiime_, any place."

I laughed. "Who wouldn't?"

I almost wanted to regret my asking because not even a second after doing so, his smirk arrived, and as stated earlier, his smirk always meant trouble.

And also like always, I am correct.

"Any person with eyes?" he suggested, and I shot him a glare. "Kidding, Miles."

"Oh, I know, your mouth gave it away," I dismissed. "What am I gonna do without that lie detector smirk of yours next year?"

The smirk didn't leave immediately; it seemed to linger for a moment longer than necessary before finally disappearing. "Probably suffer, die, something like that."

My eyes rolled upwards again before abruptly noticing that our car had suddenly came to a halt in the middle of the street. Confused, I craned myself outside of my window to peer ahead of us, and observed a large stretch of a line of various car styles and colors ahead of us. And oh, _wonderful_, it seemed to last _forever_… this could definitely be a damper on my plans.

"What the heck's going on?" I really don't know whom I was asking, but Oliver must've thought I was talking to him since he was the only one to reply.

"Beats the hell out of me," he muttered with a shrug.

I shifted comfortably back into my seat, pressing a tooth into my bottom lip worriedly as I looked over at him. "But—the mall closes in, like, two hours!"

I didn't expect him to freak out with me, being that he's a boy, and going to the mall specifically for my needs alone was probably _not _at the top of his favorite things to do list. So it came as no surprise when he pretended to choke at my words.

"What? _Two_ hours?! How are you going to find a new pair of pajamas in _two _hours?!"

I shoved him again, but he didn't grimace in pain, only grinned, knowing full well it was just another of my typical playful actions. "I'm actually looking for slippers, but nice try."

"Slippers are part of pajamas," he replied smugly, as if this was brain surgery he was referring to.

I shook my head at him with a small smile. "Actually, dear Ollie-ver, two hours is not much time when your feet only fit into clodhopper shoes." To prove my point, I raised my legs to rest on top of Oliver's glove compartment, and then proceeding to throw them a hostile look. "Why can't you just be baby feet like every other girl's, you size nine nasties!" I cursed at them.

Oliver placed a sudden hand on my leg, scaring me enough to cause me to jump a little. Snapping my attention to his face, I noted he appeared kind of mad. "Get your feet down on the carpet where they belong," he ordered. Whoa. I'm pretty sure _that_ voice confirmed the anger.

"Wow." Raising my eyebrows for the hundredth time, I did as I was asked, lowering my feet to their previous placement. "Get a life, Oliver, it's a _car_."

As any teenager with owner rights to a 2003 blue mustang, Oliver does not take statements like this jokingly. It's kinda shocking he has such a nice car. He's not rich by any means. Surprisingly enough, he actually paid for the car _himself_, which is about the only respectable thing he's ever done. Of course, gaining that money from the antique shop wasn't easy, so for a whole two years, Oliver and I were always found bickering over the time he spent working versus the time he spent with me. It wasn't ever totally serious fighting, but it was still irksome. It paid off in the end, however, that Friday he pulled up to my house with the beauty in my driveway.

I freaking loved it at first. Until, like, I realized it wasn't "just a car". Well, I mean, it is, but to Oliver, it's like another human being. I swear, if it were legal to marry your car, he would be first in line to get the job done. Unfortunately nothing like this is would ever pass in this country, so he's stuck to just being an overprotective prick about it.

A prime example of his ridiculous behavior, you ask? Okay, his response to my telling him to "Get a life, Oliver, it's a car"—

"But it's _my _car. And feet in _my_ car go on the floor."

You see?

He stopped speaking for a moment, and just as I was about to freak out on him for being so retarded about a dang automobile, he mistakenly put in, "Even if the space is _too small_ for them…"

His evil expression triggered me to gasp. "Hey! Only _I'm_ allowed to make fun of my feet size!"

"Right, sorry, Big Foot," he said seriously, his devious face increasing.

"_Oliver_!" I growled.

"Miley!" he chuckled at his own lame impression of my girlish tone. "Calm down, I'm only kidding. I love your ogre feet."

"_Ogre feet?_!"

"Well, they sure ain't _princess_ feet—"

I pushed myself forwards to choke him when an interrupting, loud horn blared from behind us. Oliver must've jumped a mile and a half, and probably would've skyrocketed through the car's ceiling had he not been wearing a seatbelt.

"What the hell?" he asked irritably, reaching for the rearview mirror to adjust it to his liking. "What?!" he unexpectedly yelled at it. "I can't go any further either, dumbass!"

"Oliver!" I shouted fearfully. "My window's down! They might hear you!"

"I don't care, he shouldn't be honking at me about this stupid traffic jam."

I sighed, knowing his stubborn male attitude would never disappear. My back returned to its sunken position in my seat. "How long have we been sitting here not moving anyways?"

"Uh, like, five minutes."

"That's it?!" I looked at him, horrified.

"I'm sorry?" he apologized, sounding confused.

"God, I'm gonna go see what's taking so long. I need new slippers for college, damnit!" I went for the door handle when my shoulder was abruptly pulled back. "Oliver, what—"

"Don't go outside," he told me gravely, sort of tightening his grip on me as he said it.

A little annoyed, I shrugged him off of me. "Um, okay, dad?"

"No!" he pointed at once to the rearview mirror. "That guy is leaving his car."

And when I looked to check, I found Oliver was indeed, correct. A huge looking man with a giant curly black beard was approaching Oliver's side of the car. Oh, crap.

"I _told_ you my window was down!" I whispered almost angrily.

Oliver glared, then winced when a fist pounded at his window. The guy was standing there, looking ridiculously too angry for what Oliver had said. I mean, I know he called him a dumbass, but c'mon—he looked to be about ready to tear off someone's ligaments.

"Um, hi, is there a problem?" Oliver dumbly asked, taking off his sunglasses.

"Yeah, you! You're the problem, you little fucking cockmuncher!"

_Whooooooooa_. My eyes widened before quickly resuming to their normal sizes.

"Um, I'm sorry, sir," Oliver apologized politely with a quiver in his voice. Yeah, too bad _I'm_ not that polite…

"_Excuse me_, don't call him a cockmuncher!" I found myself shouting angrily over Oliver's shoulder. I had meant to keep that little thought to myself, but it was obvious the scary man had heard me because his eyes met mine as soon as my sentence had ended.

"Miley…" Oliver said quietly—_warningly_—yet not looking at me.

"Ohh, I see, you need a girl to fight your battles, ya pussy," sneered the man.

"What the hell!" Oliver barked. "What is the fucking problem here? There's a traffic jam! It's not my fault!"

"Nobody calls me a dumbass and gets away with it," he returned.

That sounds like a challenge…

"DUMBASS!" I screamed, and Oliver grabbed hold of me to thrust me behind him. He gave me a pleading kind of look, like he was telling me with his eyes to just plainly shut up. I had no idea how he was holding in the anger so well. I was fighting to keep every curse word on the face of the planet inside of me.

"Little ladies shouldn't use that kind of language," said Lumberjack Man.

"I'll use whatever kind of language I want, thanks," I jeered in response.

The man's eyebrows were furrowed in rage, and he glanced hatefully to Oliver with a constipated face as if he were unsure of what to say. "You got a wild one on you there. She's crazy."

I gasped in disgust and leaned forward to throw out another insult, but Oliver pushed me back again, replying to the man with a blunt, "Yeah, she _is_ something…"

"Excuse me!" I yelled at him in further revulsion. "Stick up for me!"

He blinked. "And say what?"

"_OLIVER_!"

"This is so not helping your case—the shouting," he pointed out, cringing slightly, and I wanted to just like, kill him.

The lumberjack bearded man stood there watching us, but not with the same menacing expression he had first approached us with, for the anger he once held in his face seemed to have vanished—he now just appeared curious and perplexed. "Well, I _was_ gonna kill him, but I see you have him taken care of…" He backed a step away from the car to walk away, leaving both Oliver and I flabbergasted when we were even more surprised to see him abruptly turn around. "Best of luck to you guys on your relationship."

"Best of luck to us on our _what_?" I repeated, confused. "What the—who _says_ that?"

"We have a relationship?" Oliver—I think jokingly—asked, and feeling a small smile on my lips, I threw him a funny look, to which he returned with something similar. "So, I hope you're happy. We almost just got our asses kicked. God, you're crazy, Miles."

I kind of shrugged. "So?"

With a sarcastic roll of his eyes—I'm guessing he was trying to imitate me when he did it—one of his arms draped around my shoulder in a single-armed hug. "I know, I know, I still love your crazy ass anyways."

"Aw, you love me," I teased, resting my head more comfortably against his face.

He shifted a little for some reason before adding, "No, I said I love your crazy _ass_. I'd probably love you yourself if you'd actually hug me back instead of leaving me hanging here."

I blinked, not noticing until that precise moment that his other arm was indeed stretched out to embrace me as well. "Oh, well, _excuuuse _me." And I turned my body fully more to the side to squeeze him in a hug more tightly than necessary.

"Don't choke me," he joked, and I grasped even harder.

"I do what I want."

A strangely happy-sounding sigh emitted from his lips. "I know…"

I faintly grinned before remembering my current dilemma, and pushed my head upwards to look at him in concern. "We're not gonna make it to the mall in time, are we?"

He let go of me, staring at me in disbelief. "Are these slippers _really_ that important?"

I gaped back at him with the same expression. "Uh, _yeah_!"

He shook his head softly, pressing his hands against the steering wheel again. "Man, you really _are_ something, Miley Stewart."

I smiled brightly. "That I am."

* * *

The traffic jam must've taken another forty-five minutes to clear out unfortunately because when I finally barged in through the mall's doors, I caught a glimpse of a clock's short hand on the four. I only had an hour to reach my destination, so of course, I made my way there in a sprint. And I'm just going to set this straight—Miley Stewart does not run anywhere she can walk. Not even our old, demented physical education teacher, Mr. Karter, could get my legs a'movin', and he had a bellow like Satan. So, me actually _running_ to the store of _Miranda's_ was pretty much a huge deal.

Naturally there had to still be a problem for the one time in my life I decide to use my sneakers full-throttle. There was a six-foot tall tortoise behind me, and he was totally slowing me down.

"Will you hurry up?" I yelled at him, but still not turning around to face him.

"God, can you freak out any more about this?"

"NO!"

"These better be fucking _glass_ slippers…"

I ignored him and his sailor mouth, and focused my eyes on the heart-shaped _Miranda's_ emblem just across from me. And in a bright pink, neon-lit sign it read, "FUZ SLIPPERS – 40% OFF TODAY ONLY!"

Glass slippers… psh. While that is slightly (only _slightly_) funny of Oliver, these are going to be so much better. So what if Cinderella never wore fuzzy slippers! She _should've_. They'd probably be way more comfortable anyways. And it's not like I'm Cinderella to begin with. I'm perfectly plain Miley. I don't have golden locks or some big beautiful blue Disney dress. And I definitely don't have glass slippers. Like they'd make glass slippers in my size, ha! And doesn't Cinderella have a supposedly _dashing prince_, too? Yeaah, I definitely don't have one of those. Not that I wouldn't _mind_ one of those... it's just not going to happen anytime soon. Unless I magically transform some pumpkin into a carriage, which, let me tell you, is never going to happen in a million years.

So fuzzy slippers will just have to do. And I can have them _past_ midnight. Ha. In your face, Cinderellla.

I happily and determinedly ran inside, madly shoveling my way through various people, and the bras and panties lining the store's walls, to reach the back where my pretties would be waiting. The table came into view at last, but then my heart stopped.

There were only four pairs left.

I gaped at them in hysterics, knowing my chances of one of the pairs being my huge feet size was probably one in a million. Each pair sat there tauntingly in their fuzzy, pink glamour, and their freaking adorably cute boot design. Why do traffic jams only happen to me on days like this? It's not like they appear when I have to go to the dentist, or visit my boring Aunt Judy.

I quickly examined each pair, but then frowning at my luck. The only size remotely close to mine were size eight's. Seriously—_whyyy?_ I glared hatefully down at my sneakers, wishing they would just magically lose an inch or something.

Maybe about a full minute later, someone's fingers nudged me on one of my shoulders, so me, thinking it was an employee, turned around to face the person.

And honest to freaking God, _Oliver Oken_ was standing there, cradling a _giiaaant_ red lacy bra up to his chest questionably.

"Pretty sure I could fit my head in one of these cups," he remarked casually, and red-faced, I snatched the object from his hands as quickly as humanly possible.

"Oliver, what the _hell_ are you doing in here!"

He blinked, still staring at the bra in interest. "Uh, following you. Was I supposed to wait outside?"

"_Yes_!"

"Now how does _that _work when I use up _my_ gas to bring you he—"

I didn't understand at first why he left his statement go unfinished before I realized his eyes had wavered past my face and grew at whatever he was gawking at behind me. Puzzled, and slightly frustrated, I turned to see that one of the dressing rooms' doors had accidentally creaked itself open, and lo and behold, there was a girl in a black bra examining herself in a mirror.

Oliver and I's faces appeared in the reflection, and she, of course, screamed as she slammed the door immediately. I couldn't blame the poor, violated girl. For one, being seen with so little on you would be unimaginably humiliating, and two, Oliver had been very un-subtly checking her out.

"You see why you can't be in here, you idiot!" I cursed at him, resisting all urges to stomp on his feet. I totally would have if we weren't just standing there in the public eye, where I needed to present myself like a lady.

He nodded with a dopey smile. "Oh yes, I _see_ all right…"

"Oh my God, sicko! Go away!" I yelled, my upper lip curling in abhorrence.

"Are you kidding? There's hot women _everywhere_!"

It really kills me to have such an idiotic, hormone driven male best friend sometimes, but it's really only every once in awhile that it truly bothers me, and usually, only in public areas. Because like I said, when we're alone, he's a completely different person, and just way more likeable. But right now for instance, we aren't alone, so those hormones-I-hate-with-all-my-heart are taking over his body and actions. So me growling then shouldn't have been such a shock to him.

He somehow managed to lean out of my grasp at the last second and disappear further on into the store. Uh, _oh my God_. I just let a pervert run wild in freaking _Miranda's_. And worse, that pervert is _Oliver Oken_. What I have just done should be like, a sin. Who knew how many women were about to suffer because of me…

But looking down in my arms, I came to the quick conclusion that I had to buy these slippers now, or someone less deserving would grab them.

I then shoved my big dumb feet into the fluffy shoes to make sure they'd fit okay, and unfortunately, I found them a little snug. I cringed and bit my lip, staring indecisively at the price tag… Okay, for ten dollars, they'd work.

I made my way into the checkout aisle, cautiously watching for any sign of madness exhibiting the store—a.k.a. Oliver—but surprisingly, I don't think he was even around anymore, or else I'd at least hear a few more disgusting comments and some loud sounds of _someone_'s face being slapped…

The cashier grinned at me as I set the slippers on the counter. "Hello, find everything okay?" she asked, and as I was beginning to look back down to my slippers, I found my eyes widening to what was behind them. It, er, was her shirt… It, uh, well, um—_they were huge_, if you catch my drift. And very uncovered as well because that v-neck was dipping _low_. I'm not a lesbian by any means, but seeing such a thing startled me, and any girl will agree—if a lady's ta-ta's are like, right there in the spotlight, you're going to look no matter what orientation you lie under.

"Uh, yeah," I answered, feeling embarrassed, and as she began to scan the slippers, a certain eighteen-year-old, shaggy dark-haired boy had suddenly popped up next to me OUT OF NOWHERE.

Oh, he wasn't alone. He had a stripper-ish pink looking _lingerie set_ in his hands.

I stared at him in horror. My face was blushing madness, and I had no idea what was about to come out of that spontaneous mouth of his.

"So, Miles, I think you should buy this," he freaking said, confirming my terror. "You can wear it tomorrow night over to my house if you want, but I can't guarantee you'll be wearing it loooong..."

I'm not sure how hot your cheeks can burn, but I could not even BELIEVE he was saying this, ESPECIALLY IN FRONT OF THE BIG BREASTED CASHIER AND THE FIVE ZILLION OTHER WOMEN BEHIND ME IN LINE.

Logically I fumed. "_OLIVER_!" I went to reach for the lingerie, but he somehow swung it around me and placed it on the counter next to my slippers, grinning wildly at the cashier.

"She wants this, too, please!" Then his eyes, like mine had done, lowered a tad and widened—but unlike me, they were not subtle at what he was looking at in the slightest. "_Whoa_."

I felt humiliation for both the employee _and_ me. Immediately wanting to distract her from what Oliver had just blurted, I hastily snatched the lingerie set off the counter. "I'm sorry, but no, I don't want these!"

"Oh, c'mon, don't you think she'd look sexy in it?" I winced and snapped my head to see Oliver gesturing to my body and its lack of curves. Flushing even more than I could possibly imagine, I gave the lady a pleading look just to ignore him.

She looked between amused and disgusted. "Um, sure?"

"Ya see?" he asked me, and by then I was shaking in outrage.

"Oliver. Leave. NOW."

His smile disappeared, and he tilted his head a little. "Wait, are you mad?"

"No! I'm just PEACHY!!!!!!!"

He shrunk backwards, looking alarmed. "Hey, hey, calm down, Miles. I was just trying to help."

"With WHAT?!"

"Your sex appeal."

I screamed and ran towards him when strong hands had suddenly grabbed me around the arms. I gasped in surprise, and then saw two men in black outfits approaching Oliver as well, also seizing him… oh no.

_We had freaking security called on us?!  
_  
Oliver merely blinked. "Hey! What—what are you guys—"

"We need you to leave," spoke one of the men gruffly, and I was honestly about to just die right there. As if I wasn't _embarrassed enough_! I was going to be kicked out of _Miranda's_? Seriously, how does this stuff even happen to me?!

I looked back to Oliver. Oh, yeah, _that's_ how.

"Did we do something wrong?" the idiot asked, and I couldn't believe his stupidity until I saw his crooked smile. He was acting idiotic on PURPOSE?!

It would only take one more thing to make me flip a lid.

"Can I please buy my slippers first?" I asked with a heavy breath.

One of the security guys faced the gal at the cashier. She hardly nodded, and I shoved myself out of the man's arms to reach for my purse and pull out my wallet.

As the entire store stared on at me as I paid, all I could do was watch in pain as the cashier bag my slippers. I could barely believe this humiliation… on a freaking _Sunday_, too…

Someone coughed behind me, and I barely glanced to see Oliver still standing there against one of the mall's security men. He gave me a pathetic look, but I just scoffed. How could he have done this to me?

* * *

The car ride to my house was a very quite one. No radio, no Oliver's voice (not _always_ a bad thing…), and of course, none of mine either. But when he did finally gain the balls to say something, I had decided that I was already finished with being pissed.

"I'm sorry, Miley," he said, watching me from the corner of his eye as he drove.

"No, it's okay, Oliver."

"Really?"

I sighed and leaned my head backwards. "Yeah. I got my slippers. That's all I wanted."

"But won't you be embarrassed to go back in there again?"

I started to glare at him, but decided to refrain from doing so. It wouldn't help matters at all, and I had to be a bigger person about this, despite the fact that any other person in the world would have slaughtered him already. "It doesn't matter. I won't be going back to that mall for another few months. I'll be at SBU remember?"

"Oh, right."

It got silent again; a distinct uneasiness had clearly been formed. Awkward situations rarely occurred between us anymore, so I wasn't totally sure what to do. He's been acting strange ever since I got my college acceptance letter. I was about to make a comment about turning the radio back on when Oliver unknowingly interrupted.

"You know, I wasn't kidding about that lingerie. You would look hot as hell." He appeared to look nervous, as if thinking those were the wrong words to speak, but little did he know… they were the _perfect_ words to say.

I smiled at him and punched him lightly on the arm. "Oh, shut up."

And just like that we were back to our joking, playful selves.

The true Oliver Oscar Oken experience is not always easy to deal with, but you know what? I don't even mind. He's the only best friend I got, and I wouldn't trade him for the world.

Not even for a pair of "_fucking glass slippers_".

* * *

**  
Woo. First chapter completed! Hoorayness! I hope you realize the first half of this story is mainly intended to get you attached to their friendship, which I hope is working so far.**

Anyways, a few reviews would be nice... I mean, this is like, 16 pages after all on MS Word. Dang. lol.

The next update won't be for awhile, I'm afraid, unless I kick it into high gear... haha, not likely with the way my college classes are going right now. Yikes.


	3. he'd be miserable without me

**Um… so, I didn't want to post this juuust yet, but it's been long enough, so whatever, I'll get over it, hahaha. I hope you like this chapter. I'm not too fond of it, but eh, another thing I'll have to get over. Lol.**

**And remember, AU… Miley doesn't have a brother here. But that doesn't mean Jackson won't be in the story later, so don't freak about that. :)**

**P.S. I don't know how old Robbie Ray is, but in my story, he's the age I make him be. Lol.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own HM. Never will. So there.**

* * *

**  
HeartWare  
**by Broken Oken

_chapter two: he'd be miserable without me_

* * *

Some things in life are guaranteed to raise eyebrows and questions to which there will never be any answers. Even if everyone doesn't agree with said statement, I for one can because it certainly describes my life in a nutshell. I like to call these unexplainable things Miley's Life's Mysteries. They are sometimes later solved in my life out of basically nowhere, but not always. Here are some prime examples of what exactly I'm talking about:

Number one—How come I still can't go to bed without a nightlight when I grew out of that "scared of the dark" stage when I was like, eight?

Number two—Why do I sometimes wake up with socks _on_, when I know for a fact that I went to bed with them _off_?

And this also brings us to number 3.

_Why did my alarm clock go off at 9:00 freaking a.m. this morning?!_

It was Friday morning, precisely two days before college take-off, when my alarm clock "_mysteriously"_ decided to scream at _nine in the freaking morning_, like I stated earlier. I, like any normal human being, love my sleep to the point of obsession, and hadn't planned on waking up for at least another _two_ full hours, a.k.a. _eleven_ a.m. That way, I get a good amount of my lovely sleep, and also, Dad can't pester me about not being awake in the morning because technically, there is still one more hour left before the afternoon begins. So, everybody wins.

…well, usually. This morning doesn't count… apparently.

When the noise-from-Hell first began its irritating ringing, I was more than a little upset when my eyes first came in contact with the red _9:00 a.m_. flashing at me. I basically threw the blankets and covers off of me in outrage, and you know, I think I screamed, too, but I'm not totally sure. I kind of did these things with such haste that I really didn't pay much attention. Because, if you couldn't tell, I was pretty much pissed off, and my anger was burning too brightly in my brain for me to even _think_ about anything else. Oh, not to mention, it's _nine a.m_., when usually, Miss Miley Stewart is still catching up on some much needed beauty rest.

Anywho, since I was still laying there on my bed even after all of my heated actions, I turned off my alarm in a matter of milliseconds, and then picked up my pillow, shoving my head protectively under it. But it was no use, and I knew it. I was already up, and once I'm up, I'm, well, _up_. For good. Like, for the rest of the day. This, of course, doesn't mean I _want_ to be up, but once I am, I immediately must use the bathroom, a ritual of my daily morning routine.

But not yet, nope. I still had to deal with my corrupted father since he's the only other alive and breathing thing in this house (well, besides our hedgehog, Kramer) he must've been the one to set it to nine.

…Unless Kramer could somehow grow a human intellectual brain and get out of his cage, and then proceed to program my alarm for nine 'o'clock, which, let me tell you, is _so_ likely… right.

So I grumbled and grumbled, trudging my way downstairs like a snail. At the bottom of the staircase, I saw him, standing all innocent-like and flipping through the many pages of the Malibu Star. He noticed me as well, looking generally puzzled…. most likely at the hostile expression gracing my face.

My father is a relatively attractive man for being forty-three years old. He's pretty tall, around six foot three, but he's not that skinny—more muscular and built in all the right areas. He has brown hair, stopping just above his chin in length, and while most men his age gross me out with not having short hair, I find it actually works for him.

Yet it still amazes me that he cannot get a date… even after Mom left…

"Miles?" the voice pushed all depressing thoughts away, and I darted my head upwards to see my dad check his wristwatch quickly before his puzzled appearance intensified. "I didn't expect you up for at least another hour and a half."

He likes to think he's a great actor sometimes, but I could see right through him as if he were our back porch's glass door. I mean, think about it—who else _conveniently_ has a watch on this early in the day? _No one_, that's who.

"Nice try, _father_," I sneered, pulling my arms up to fold them over my chest. "I know of your tricks."

"Tricks?" he set the paper down on the table beside him, now examining me curiously and sort of like I was insane. "You kidding? It's too early in the morning to even begin to think of tricks. Well, unless you're talking the cereal, which, in that case, I don't got any of _those_ tricks either."

"Dad, _think_," I hissed. "Would I ever, I mean, _ever_, be up before eleven a.m. when I _don't_ have to be?"

He shrugged. "Prob'ly not."

Okay, then _why wasn't he giving in to his act of crime?!_

"Who set my alarm for nine 'o'clock!" I demanded angrily, and his eyebrows lifted, seemingly in enlightenment.

"Oh, that was probably Oliver."

And he said it so calmly I couldn't even believe it.

"_Oliver?!_" I repeated in a confused shout. "How would Oliver do that? He's worse than me! He sleeps until like, two in the afternoon!" And for some reason, I got all dramatic as I said this and threw my arms out.

"Oh, well, I guess not today," he replied, picking his paper back up again, and then walked towards the kitchen. "He came knocking on the door a little bit ago, asking to use the bathroom."

ASKING TO USE MY BATHROOM. AT _NINE A.M.?!?_

WHAT. THE. HELL.

Why would he go and set my alarm for something like that?!? As much as I love you, Oliver, I don't need an alarm clock that syncs with your bodily functions!

I really wanted to just scream, but I settled for a low growl, turning myself back to the stairs. It couldn't be clearer that the boy has a death wish.

When I approached the bathroom, I found the door was, indeed, shut. I must've been so tired and furious I hadn't realized it when I had passed it on my way downstairs. I frantically pounded onto the door, glowering even though Oliver wouldn't be able to see it obviously, when an innocent voice announced, "_Occupado_!"

Uh huh. That was Oliver all right. Stupid, _stupid_ Oliver and his habit of inserting Spanish into about the most random of situations. Sometimes I honestly regret making him take that class with me sophomore year.

"Oliver! What are you doing!" I yelled at the door.

It was quiet for a moment, before he answered uncertainly, "Um, well, alright, if you _must_ know, I'm currently taking a shi—"

"OKAY!" I interrupted immediately, gagging to myself. "Don't need to know details, except, oh, I don't know—what the heck are you doing in my house?!"

"I went on a jog," the way he said it sounded like he was talking to a complete moron. "And running makes you have to go—"

"You don't jog!" I interrupted again.

"Well… now I do! I'm getting in a little workout before the _big day_ on Sunday."

My harsh glare lessened, and I stood there, not understanding why Sunday would be a big day for _him_. Sunday was _my_ big day—my big college move out day. So I hurriedly searched my head for any important dates, like his birthday or something, but that still wouldn't make sense because that was in _February_.

So I said the only thing I could think of, "Big day? What? Is the Super bowl here already?"

"Miley… it's August."

"So?" Honestly, what does that even have to do with anything?

"…alright, never mind. But I have a surprise for you!"

My nose automatically began scrunching up. "I'm _not_ going in there, Oliver."

"Not what I meant! It's _super_ big news. Way bigger than anything in here." He paused. "Wow, I think I just unintentionally insulted myself."

Despite my confusion and anger, I started busting up laughing immediately. "God, why do you always have to go and make me laugh when I'm pissed at you?"

"Because you laughing is better than you yelling, uh duh?"

I smiled a little more. "True. But what is this 'big news'?"

I heard flushing, and the followed running of a faucet as I stood there against the door. It was probably another minute before the handle moved, and he emerged in the doorframe, looking quite pleased with himself.

"You _really_ wanna know?"

I struggled not to grin back. "Yes. I _really_ wanna know. It'd be also cool to find out why this couldn't wait until, I don't know, _noon?!_" And before he could answer, I also hissed, "Which reminds me, why do you think you have permission to go in my room when I'm sleeping and _change the alarm?_"

"Well, I didn't wanna wait to tell you," he chuckled nervously in his reply. "I was gonna hold it off until tomorrow, like I've been planning all week, _buuuut_—"

"You've been keeping this all week?" I was stunned. "But, but—you _suck_ at secrets!"

"Of course I do," he smiled. "Which is why I'm telling you a day earlier instead."

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms again. "Alright then, spit it out."

He smirked. "That's what he said."

"OLIVER!" I slapped his arm, giggling inwardly as to not praise his perverted side like I had learned _not _to do in the past. "Stop being gross, and answer the dumb question."

"Temper, temper," he said, annoyingly waving an index finger as he did so, and swiftly walked past me. "If you really wanna know, you need to calm down first."

"I am calm," I said loudly, growing frustrated with him again.

"Okay then, the biiiig surprise iiiiis—" he suddenly stopped short, and his face got all distorted. "Holy hell, what is that _rank?!_"

"Rank…?" I guided him with my eyes towards the bathroom.

"No, no, not that!" he waved my idea off like he _wasn't_ known to stink up anyone's bathroom. "It's—" he leaned forward suddenly and sniffed towards me. "It's—_you_. You smell _bad_."

"Oh, geez, thanks," I muttered darkly.

And just to add to my frustration, he was like, "So, take a shower, and then I'll tell you."

_"Oliver!"  
_  
He walked away from my yell, down the hall, and then the stairs, calling up a casual, "Dispatch the stink bomb first!"

I stood there in anger for a moment before silently retreating into the bathroom in anger. _Whatever_. If I smelled, I definitely didn't _want_ to smell. Oliver would just make fun of me for weeks. He probably was going to already, come to think of it… Eh, oh well. I wonder how bad I really smell anyways…

Curiously I lifted an arm and sniffed my armpit. _Huh_. It sure doesn't smell _good_, but it's not as loathsome as Oliver the Drama King was making it out to be…

Shrugging, I twisted the shower knob to 'on' when very abruptly, a really, _truly_ disgusting scent housed my nostrils. OH MY _GODDDD_. What in the _world_, it's coming from behind m—

All it took was a single glance at the toilet, a covering of my mouth and nose before I madly dashed out of the room.

"_OLIVER!!!!!!!!_"

* * *

After reprimanding Oliver to keep his '_stank out of my bathroom'_, and then taking my afore-mentioned shower when the smell finally dispersed (like I'd actually clean myself with that stench floating around), I hopped down the stairs into the living room. The TV was on, I observed, and Oliver and my dad were sitting in opposite chairs of each other, both laughing like a pair of hyenas at whatever nonsense was rotting their brains at the time.

Oliver nonchalantly nudged his head in my direction and smiled brightly. "All squeaky clean?"

"Yes," I murmured, glaring as I folded my arms, and then threw myself down on the cushion next to him. "So tell me the surprise now or else."

He swung an arm around my shoulders. "Not until Jayy TV is over."

And I swear he didn't even look the _least bit_ guilty as he said it.

My mouth hung, and I promptly shrugged him off of me. "You said you'd tell me!"

"Miles, let the poor boy watch his TV," my dad told me seriously from my left, and this time, my jaw dropped all the way to the floor.

"Dad, you're only saying that because you like Jayy TV, too!" I claimed, not believing that my dad would stoop to Oliver's level of maturity.

"That's ridiculous," he said, looking kind of ashamed, and avoiding connecting eyes with me. "I don't like this reality TV show crap."

The moron next to me instantly piped up, "But, Mr. Stewart, this isn't reality TV, this is Jayy Carlson's prank show! It's hilarious! How can you not laugh when he sets up string in the mall to trip unsuspecting victims?"

Instantly my dad began laughing. I could not believe this.

"Oh yeah! And the time he used the fart machine at the strip club?"

The idea that my dad watches the dumb show on a regular basis almost caused a gagging reflex. No, wait, the idea that my dad watches something _Oliver _watches almost caused a gagging reflex. And here I was, thinking Oliver and my dad shared nothing in common except for the taste for violence and car chases in movies.

The two of them were roaring in hysterics, and I had no choice but clear my throat just to get my presence re-known. Dad then cleared his as well, settling his eyes back to his newspaper—which I doubt he's even been reading since I woke up this morning anyway.

"Not that I… watch it or anything," he muttered.

I rolled my eyes and sunk back into the cushion as the purple Jayy TV emblem brightened the screen, with Oliver's occasional laugh of stupidity. I refused to give into this stupid show that everyone seemed to have an orgy over, but whenever Oliver laughed, I would end up joining him anyway… just because his laughter is that contagious.

The show ended about twenty minutes later. It was probably the very _second_ the black and white credits popped up in front of us that I snapped my head to Oliver with a stone cold face of willpower. "Okay, Oken, tell me. _Now_."

I could only expect he'd answer me with a question, but not the one he asked, however. "Should I, Mr. Stewart?"

I think I about blew a gasket, and I don't even know what that means. I very quickly turned to my dad, expecting to see his moustache curved downwards guiltily, but it was just the opposite—curved upwards in a smug little smile.

"Wait, _you _know about this?!" I snarled.

"Sure do," Dad replied, giving the newspaper a nice, hard shake before folding it neatly and glancing over at us. "And I say you should, son, she's looking kinda antsy… and she ain't the best morning person, so you better cheer her up fast."

I narrowed my eyes, not understanding how anything "cheer-up worthy" could make its way out of my retarded best friend's mouth. Speaking of him, he, of course, was currently choosing to _grin_ at me. And just as arrogantly as my dad, too.

"Alright, I guess I better before you have a heart attack."

"Thank-you!" I cried, grabbing onto his wrists excitedly. He kinda strangely twitched as I did this before he regained normal composure.

"So, you know…Santa Barbera?"

"Duh, it's my university, Oliver," I said, rolling my eyes again, before seeing a smirk curve his lips. Oh, great, here comes perverted rant of the day number one, er, _two_. But, no, my dad's present. He doesn't say stuff like that in front of my dad. So he wouldn't be—

Wait a second. No. _Freaking_. Way.

"Oh my God, Oliver…. are you—you—you got in?!?"

My voice had never sounded so high-pitched before, and I could barely even understand my speech because of it, but that doesn't matter since I guess Oliver did, because he freaking NODDED.

Which meant, _yes_! YES! HE GOT IN!!!

Probably a millisecond later I had my arms thrown around his neck in happiness. "Oh my GOD! Why did you keep this from me?! WHY?!"

He shrugged in our embrace and gave me a playful squeeze on my back. "I don't know. Felt like it." At this lame reasoning, I had no other choice but to smack him upside the head. He jumped back to lengthen our distance on the couch. "What was that for?!"

"You felt like it?! Are you kidding me!" I yelled at him, now chucking one of the couch's pillows at him as well.

He caught it easily, shielding his face from my vision. "Miley!"

"You are a…a…" I racked my brain for an appropriate insult that was not a cussword—you know, since my dad happened to be sitting about three yards away from me—when I noticed the box of doughnuts lying on the table in front of us. Well, I guess that would have to do or I'd be a stuttering idiot forever.

"_DOUGHNUT_!"

Slowly Oliver removed the pillow out of his face to show that it appeared as if he was choking on air because his cheeks had gone all puffy. "A…a _what?" _His tone definitely suggested that my terminology had amused him… and a great deal at that.

I saw the smile creeping onto his lips, and before I knew it, I just started dying of laughter out of nowhere; all of my fury had very out of the blue evaporated. Oliver kinda chuckled as well, tossing the pillow back at my head.

"A doughnut, huh?" he asked as I continued giggling at myself. "Only if I'm glazed."

"Psh, you wish. You can be sprinkled."

My laughing slightly subduing then, I watched as he shook his head a little at me with a smile. "So, you _are_ happy I'm going with you, though, right?"

I could barely believe he questioned such a thing. Didn't he know how much I loved him—even if I sucked at showing it sometimes?! "Of course I am. You're my best friend! This takes away about a million of the nerves!"

"Good." His smile seemed to swell at my words, and then he raised an arm, holding out a fist in front of him. "Pound it, baby."

I punched at it with my own knuckles. "_Boom!_ baby."

That was tradition with us. They were unwritten lines in a script that we only followed whenever something exciting seemed to transpire in our life.

And as Oliver's eyes shined brightly—something I noticed that always happened whenever our 'knuckle touch' occurred—I felt as if another pair of eyes was watching us. I turned my head sideways, seeing my dad's eyes linger on us for a moment, before disappearing once again behind his newspaper.

"What?" I asked, confused as to why he hid his face, like he'd been doing something bad.

Oliver looked, too, probably just as curious, but my dad didn't eliminate his newspaper shield. He only answered with a, "Nothing," before Oliver and I simultaneously glanced at each other and shrugged.

Sometimes my dad was _deeefinitely_ high up there on the Miley's Life's Mysteries list.

* * *

Saturday morning was not started with alarm clocks going off at unusual times, thank the Lord. I, in fact, awoke at my choice of hour—eleven. And I felt refreshed, joyous, and just everything that I needed to feel the day before I would leave Malibu behind until Thanksgiving.

But no day is perfect. Of course, something has to disrupt my fantasy world of having a one hundred percent wonderful day. But this wasn't a something. It was a some_one_—someone who is actually related to me, somehow, despite his oddities—named Robbie Ray Stewart, a.k.a. my beloved father.

I was sitting on my bed that afternoon, going through what needed to be packed for the following day, when I heard some loud creaking noises from outside the room. I didn't need to look up to know that my dad was standing there in the doorframe, watching me stress out over nothing worth stressing out about and place random items in various bags. Eventually I saw his feet on the gray carpet in front of me, and I quickly looked up to meet his quizzical gaze.

"Need some help, Miles?" There was an uncertainty to his voice that I had never heard before as he asked this, and I slightly cocked my head to the side.

"Dad, are you okay?"

He smiled and then let out a short chuckle. "You are sitting here, surrounded in piles of clothes that would make Mt. Everest jealous, and you're asking _me_ if _I'm_ okay?"

I blinked and then only noticed that he was right. I had been so focused on finding everything that I hadn't realized almost the entire room was covered from ceiling to carpet in clothing items.

"Oh. Yeah. I guess I am."

He chuckled again and took a seat beside me on the bed. "So where's Oliver?"

I instantly made a face. "He's a jerk. He refused to help me pack."

"He probably has his own stuff to pack, too, you know."

"Yeah, well—I—I guess you're right," I surrendered and then fell backwards onto the bed. "But he told me earlier this week he'd help me."

"You can't depend on that boy for everything you know," my dad said, and I kinda jumped back up at the oddness of his statement. Because _what?_ I didn't depend on Oliver for hardly anything. Dad must've recognized the puzzled expression overtaking my facial features, because he then continued, "You've gotten through a lot because of him, you know."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's hard to explain to you now, and I make no attempt to explain it, but Oliver—he'd be here if he knew you honestly needed him to help. He'd do downright anything for you."

I kinda laughed. "That's cause he knows I'll sock him in the face if he doesn't."

"Or it could be for another reason," he told me, and I could only stare at him for him to go on, "Do you know why Oliver's going to the same college as you?"

I thought about it, and came to the realization that I truly didn't have the slightest idea. I never even considered a reason why Oliver would want to go to Santa Barbera when his dreams definitely didn't lie there… I had been too selfish in just knowing he was going to even care.

"I don't know," I finally answered my dad, and truthfully as well. "I thought he wanted to go to LA and pursue an acting career."

"He did. Until he saw how miserable you'd be without him."

"What are you talking about?"

"Do you remember last month when he went away to Arizona for two weeks?"

I groaned and pressed a pillow into my face. "Oh, please don't remind me. Worst two weeks of my life. I had to go to the beach alone everyday." I suddenly put the pillow back down. "Oh my god. I _would_ be miserable without Oliver. And that's—that's the only reason why he's going to Santa Barbera with me?!"

For some reason, Dad seemed to find my frantic realization funny because he chuckled yet _again_. "No, Miles, I'm pretty sure—well, I'm about a hundred percent sure—that there's some _other_ reasons why he's going as well…"

I wanted him to go on to explain himself, but he didn't, and his attention was captured by something across the room. Upon looking myself, I saw that he was staring at an old photograph of me at one year old. I had a giant white bonnet over my head, and I was grinning open-mouthed like a maniac into the camera. Man, I was a cute little shit.

I smiled at the sight of it as well, and looked to my dad, expecting to see a similar expression when I noticed he appeared almost… heartbroken.

"I'm gonna miss you, bud," he said quietly.

I don't know if it was the way he said it or what, but I suddenly felt tears fill my eyes. I hadn't known I could cry so quickly before.

"I'm gonna miss you, too, Daddy," and the moment I spoke, I just started crying. It was so strange. One second I was completely fine, and then the next, with one look at the sad overwhelming grief on my father's face, I felt like a train wreck.

His arm embraced me around the neck to bring me closer to him. "I don't know what I'm gonna do. All those boys are gonna be at you—and me and my shotgun are gonna be too many miles away."

My smiling mouth caught a few tears, and I giggled. "I'm sure I'll be all right, Daddy."

"I know you will. But… you gotta get you some new hardware while you're there, all right?"

I leaned out of him, feeling confused. "New hardware? You mean like a computer? I just got a new laptop, like, three weeks ago." And I gestured to the pink laptop resting on my make-up vanity across the room.

"No, no, darlin'." He smiled slightly. "Not hardware… _Heart_ware."

"_Heart_ware?" I repeated the word, annunciating the 't' as he had done. "What's that?"

"Heartware…" he whispered it, and gazed away from me. "I guess it's something that I've been being for you over the last few years. It's protection for your heart—I try my best to keep anything from hurting you. I try to help you and support you in everything you do. But you're going to need to find some new heartware over there. People to trust, people to rely on if you ever need anybody… and most specifically, someone to keep all the boys away."

I took this definition in with a nod, staring off into a wall as my dad was doing. But then I looked back at him quickly. "Okay… but… does that mean… _all_ the boys?"

He laughed and entangled an arm around me again. "Maybe not all, but most. The bad ones."

"Oh, alright, fair enough."

He gave me a tight squeeze. "It's gonna be lonely without you here."

"I'm sure you'll manage, daddy."

He sighed, and got to his feet again, beginning to walk towards the door. My eyes followed his retreating figure, and he turned around.

"I love you, Miles."

I smiled at the words I never got tired of hearing. "I love you too, Dad."

He was about a foot out of the room before he was facing me once more, and I lifted my eyebrows questionably.

"You know, Miles… Oliver would be pretty miserable without you, too."

I blinked, and he was gone. In boredom I glanced over to my cell phone currently charging on my bed stand, before picking it up to notice that its screen was flashing a bright white on me.

_One New Text Message._

I must've had it on silent. Shrugging inwardly, I automatically clicked to open it.

_**Fr: Oliver**__  
__**hey, i feel bad about not helping u out, do u still need me 2 come over?**__  
_  
I looked up to where I had last seen my dad standing, and then I grinned.

You know, I had a feeling Oliver would be pretty miserable without me, too.

* * *

**Aw. I love my Molliever. XD**

**Kinda a filler chap, but there was some stuff important stuff in here at the same time.**

**The next chapter is giving me so many difficulties for some reason, so I can't promise a quick update unfortunately. But you'll get to see Lilly! Yes, she exists still in this story. You can't make a Moliver without a Lilly, of course. :)**

**Enough of my blabbering. Reviews…please? xD**


	4. cutting the cord

**So hopefully this chapter doesn't bore you to death, it's roughly 16 pages long on Word without being fully edited still, sooo, yeah. But it gets us to the main setting of the story finally, and some important things happen here that may not seem so important right now, if that makes sense. :) Anyways, I've babbled enough... chapter THREE!**

**Dislcaimer: Fosho I own HM! AHAHAAH, yeah right. I'm cool.**

* * *

**HeartWare**  
by Broken Oken

_chapter three: cutting the cord_

* * *

Things are partial to change. _Everything_ changes eventually. Cliché, I know, but it's the truth. And sometimes these changes happen so quickly that you won't even notice the biggest of them. Take it from someone who knows.

In the last few months, everything had seemed to remain the same tranquil Malibu—but, of course, it wasn't. My own best friend had been keeping a huge secret from me for months, so that in itself meant he wasn't the same childish Malibu Oliver Oken I knew that used to pick his nose in the third grade and then try sticking it in my ear, or the blabbermouth Malibu Oliver Oken who told everyone I still watched My Little Ponies in the fifth grade.

He was… well, growing up. And I hadn't even noticed.

I stared at the face in the mirror in front of me; it was both blank in expression and make-up. Geez. Maybe I would look more grown up myself if I had actually _tried_ today or something. I looked so plain without my usual mascara, blush, and concealer.

I leaned more forward towards the glass, squinting as I bared my teeth to inspect their condition. They were about the only thing that looked somewhat presentable at the moment, despite their remote crookedness. My use of Crest white strips seemed to be doing a pretty good job so far. But my hair, on the other hand, looked like a forest of frizzled curls—almost like an eagle's nest in its giant poofy brown ponytail.

Huh, maybe I haven't grown up yet at all. Maybe it was only just _now_ my turn to do it. Maybe now was the time to stretch my newly independent wings… but I don't even have the slightest clue on how to fly. _Damnit_.

It was approaching Saturday evening. I wasn't doing anything particularly interesting except walking around the house in my new FUZ slippers—which Dad absolutely abhors by the way; he accused me of murdering a poodle, which is ridiculous since I've never even _seen_ a pink poodle, have you?—because Oliver was, lo and behold, at work.

I know. He's seriously insane. We leave for college _tomorrow_, and he still persists on working tonight for _five and a half hours_. And he only makes minimum wage. Honestly, it's not worth it.

But I wouldn't know. I've only had one job, and that was two summers ago when I volunteered at our concert hall to sell tickets for local bands and stuff. It was the worst job ever. It made me vow never to get famous because some of the fans there—even fans of brand new singers—were ridiculously crazy and pushy and—just, I'll shut up and sum it up with this: I hated every effing second of it.

He only went there about an hour ago, but I've recently decided in the last few minutes that he needs to spend one last night at the beach with me. So _Mission: Bring Back Oliver_ has been activated.

I've been to _Barb's Antiques_ a million and seven times without make-up, and also in my pajama bottoms, so it didn't bother me when I walked right in looking like a monster.

Okay, so it didn't bother me _a lot_. I'm always nervous that Oliver's smoking hot, sexy as hell, twenty-six-year-old co-worker, Derek Kane, will be working with him. But he rarely works the same shift as Oliver.

…oh, okay, except tonight.

The bell sounded as I swung the door open in my rush to find Mr. Workaholic. Something inside of me felt like it dropped—I think my stomach?—when I saw who was sitting behind the register. His black, dark eyes were widened in what looked to be surprise. Couldn't blame him. This place rarely gets any business, let alone from teenaged girls… or, referring to my appearance, creatures from the Blue Lagoon.

Instantly I blushed as he offered me a friendly wave and smile. "Hey, Miley."

"Hi, Derek, h-how are you?"

You know, I've always wondered why I've only had one boyfriend my whole life, but standing in front of hottie-Derek-with-the-dark hair-and-smoky-eyes looking the way I did then, and not to mention, _stuttering_—yeah, I'm pretty sure I just suck with the opposite sex.

Well, er, not suck. That sounds… bad.

Derek tossed his head to swing his black hair out of his face. He was still smiling, but it seemed different now. Like, a smile with _pride_… Damnit. I think he knows I love him sometimes. It's not like I hide it well. Even though the last time I had seen him was the very beginning of summer, which was like, almost four months ago. Also known as the time where I fell and broke that seventy-two dollar lamp in here that Dad had to pay for…

"Just bored out of my mind as usual," he replied with a casual shrug. "You here to see Oliver?"

I sort of nodded, or twitched, or—well, I think I moved my head, I kind of forgot what was going on really. I had forgot how truly sexy he is when he's like, only a yard away.

"Ah, he's in the back," he motioned with his hands, and I did the whole not-sure-if-I-nodded-or-not thing again, and just kind of darted for the door positioned at the back of the store.

I practically burst through the gray doors to see Oliver lifting some giant ass cardboard box that I didn't think he'd ever be able to carry. I was startled by the mere sight of it. And—_whoa_, are those _muscles_ on his arms—

"Miley?" I looked back up to his face in alarm.

"Oh, um, hey."

He blinked and set the box down on the floor. "What are you doing here?"

"Stealing you." I walked towards him, and his lips twitched into an amused line.

"Barbara won't like that," he replied, walking over to me with the smile now approaching a giant size. "I'm _hers_ tonight." Then, a second after probably thinking about his word choice, added a wink. "If you know what I mean."

I produced a quick _bleck!_ noise. "Okay, _gross,_ she's like sixty. But c'mon! We have to go to the beach!"

"I will when I get off work." He turned back around, and I frowned deeply.

"But that's not until like, ten!"

"You'll wait." He picked up the box again, and I watched in amazement as the muscles-I-wasn't-even-aware-he-had flexed once more.

"Since when do _you _work out?"

I swear he almost tripped for some reason. Upon catching himself, however, he instantly let out a hearty laugh. "Oh, uh, does Miley like?"

I really didn't know how to reply to the question, so I just chose to stare at him, and not really give any kind of opinion. "Seriously, I'm really confused. What is with all these secrets lately! First running, then SBU, and now you got _muscles_?"

"They didn't just appear overnight, you know."

I cocked my head. "I guess not… still weird, though." He shrugged, continuing to amble his way further into the storage area. And I was suddenly reminded of something.

"Oh yeah!" I skipped after him. "I see you're working with the Hottness tonight."

Immediately there was a groan. "The _Hottness_? C'mon, Miles, he's such a fag."

I almost kicked him, but realized that with him carrying whatever he was carrying, he would most likely drop it, and I'd be stuck paying for it. Again. So I decided to just show my aggression with my tone of voice. "He is _not_! Just cause he has awesome style does not make him gay!"

Even though I could only see the back of his head, I was pretty sure Oliver was rolling his eyes. "Whatever. You just wait."

Jealousy is such a strange thing in guys. Just cause Derek is so much more put together and handsome and mature than Oliver will ever be, he has to go have a sissy fit about it.

I didn't give any kind of reply to him, so when he turned back around he gave me a funny look. "You're still here why?"

I hung my mouth. "Well, fine, if you don't want me here, I'll just leave!"

"Sounds good."

He just started walking away again, and by then, my jaw must've really hit the floor. "Okay then, goodbye, asshole." I was halfway out the room when I heard his obnoxious laughter.

"Beach at 10:30!" he yelled.

"No!" I argued, not wanting to give in so easily even though I wanted to for some reason.

"Okay, 11 then?"

"No! I'm not going!"

"Fine, okay, 10:_15_."

I sighed, slumping myself against the door in defeat. "Fine… 10:15." I am conquered so easily sometimes.

"Good. Now leave."

Automatically I gave a "hmph" noise and stormed fully back out into the main room.

Of course, I had completely forgotten about Derek, so I about jumped a mile when he asked, "Everything okay?"

I fidgeted. I couldn't make it more obvious that I didn't like talking to Derek when I knew I looked like the Loch Ness monster. Especially since this might be the last time I'd see him for a long time.

"Yeah, er, it's fine."

He smiled his perfect smile, and I wanted to melt. "Good."

"Yeah… good," I mumbled, blushing. "See ya."

"Have a great night," he told me, and I couldn't help but to walk out the exit with a bounce in my step.

* * *

There is nothing like walking along the beach at night, in nothing but a tank-top and shorts, with the moonlight kissing the ocean. It's magnificent, beautiful, breathtaking—all adjectives synonymous with _perfection_… _ahh_…

This could be the most romantic moment of my life.

Emphasis on the "could".

Because I'm not with any prince charming or anything. I'm with, like, a peasant, who I'm currently resisting hitting since he keeps repeating the word, "Fag," after every syllable I'm saying.

"He has the most amazing hair."

"Fag."

"His eyes are so… mysteriously intriguing."

"Fag."

"_Oliver!"_

"Fag. Wait—"

I laughed hysterically loud as he realized his mistake, glowering at me as he did so. I shook my head and came to halt to turn directly towards the ocean and whiffing in the sea salt breeze. Oliver remained quiet, which was odd, but I smiled anyways before spontaneously kicking off my sandals and planting my butt on the sand.

"He told me to have a _great_ night, you know," I said happily.

"So?" Oliver asked, joining me in my sitting position, and also surprising me from his word choice. I had expected a two hundred and thirty fourth chime of, "fag!"

"So, like, he's never told me that before." I smiled brightly at him. "Back in May, he told me to have a 'nice night'. There's a change."

I knew how pathetic I sounded, but Oliver really didn't need to be giving me that look just to confirm it. "Miles… you realize he's like ten years older than you practically."

"Hey! I'm eighteen now, it's legal!" I winked as he groaned.

"Okay then, how do you plan to go about this with him getting it up the ass?"

I slapped his arm harshly. "Would you stop that!"

"God, sor-_ry_, I'm just trying to tell you you're wasting your time. He's a sausage man, just trust me."

"One, seriously, you're gross. And two, you never know, Oliver." I poked my nose up in the air and shut my eyes. "My dad says that good things can happen to those who wait."

"I suuure hope so."

I looked questioningly to my side to see Oliver's face looking strangely serious. "What?"

He looked sort of surprised. "What what?"

My brows furrowed in confusion. "Er, I don't know."

"Great," he set the subject aside quickly and looked back towards the ocean.

I gave him a suspicious narrowing of the eyes before deciding to mimic him. The waves crashed rhythmically just below our feet, and I smiled at the beauty I would be missing come just tomorrow night, and hugged my knees. "Hmm…"

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"No. Just… can't believe we're leaving this."

He laughed—confusing since I didn't even realize I'd said anything funny. "It's not _that_ far away. I bet there will still be beach parties and whatnot."

I heaved my shoulders forward. "Yeah, I just—I'm gonna miss just sitting here like this all the time."

"We can still do this at college."

I tilted my head so that one of my cheeks supported against my left knee, and lifted my eyes to his. "Really?"

He smiled. There wasn't a smirk. There wasn't even an ounce of playfulness in his eyes, so when he said it, I believed it. "Of course. It may not be Malibu, but we can still go sit somewhere late at night if you want."

I smiled harder against my knee. "Promise?"

"Promise. Scout's Honor." He saluted, causing me to giggle.

"Alright. I'll take your word for it."

He swiped an arm around me. I smiled and leaned onto his shoulder, enjoying the way the beach fell silent once more. So beautiful, relaxing, rejuvenating…

And I had no idea that not much longer from then would you find me sitting on a bed, in a room by myself, crying and wishing to rewind to that precise moment.

* * *

That Sunday the sun was probably burning a good 101 degrees—that was for sure. I could taste the salt of my sweat dripping from my face as I moved as much luggage as I could from my room and into Oliver's mustang.

Yes… you read correctly. _Oliver_'s car. Not my car, oh no. Because Oliver couldn't _bear_ to part with his mechanical wife. It was like a soap opera watching him tell all of us why we should take his, and not mine. If he ever gets in a car accident and is paralyzed from the neck down or something… I swear to God, he won't be crying about his state of body—but about his car instead.

But I couldn't totally complain about this decision. It would be stupid to drive separately and waste all that gas. But the part I _could_ whine about was that for a whole hour and thirty minutes, it would just be me, him, and the road.

You might as well just kill me now. You can only hear so much T-Pain and Lil Wayne.

You'd _think_ that I could ride with my dad. All of my and Oliver's other luggage was in his car, who would be following behind us the way to the university. Obviously Oliver's mustang is not designed for any kind of living space, but dad insisted that I ride with Oliver anyways. He was all, "I might as well cut the cord early." I personally think that's a crappy statement to bring about when all we are talking about is a _car ride_, and I even told him that little thought, but he just kinda shoved me into the mustang anyways, proclaiming, "CUTTING THE CORD!" loudly enough for everyone in our neighborhood to hear, embarrassingly enough.

It's kinda unfair because Oliver's parents are so not embarrassing at all. I know that's hard to believe, being that the verb "humiliate" is encoded into his DNA, but his parents are just really nice, sweet, and normal people. They treat me so wonderfully. I have no idea how Oliver is related to them.

But he has two twin little brothers who make up for the embarrassing part. Possibly two mini reincarnations of the Devil.

Garret and Ryan.

They're like, impossibly immature still for being eleven years old. One time—a.k.a. _last month_—Oliver forced me to baby sit them with him (literally forced, I was practically dragging my nails through the carpet, and I was basically shrieking that I'd rather stick my head in a sewage dump), and we had to chase them around the pool table a zillion times because they had stolen Beary, my stuffed animal.

It may not sound like a big deal to you, but Beary has been with me since I was born. He's the only thing I got left from Mom.

Anywho.

Oliver told me that when he left his house earlier this morning, his brothers might have "de-pants"ed him, but his parents only gave him a few giant hugs, and that was it.

THAT WAS IT.

When I depart from my dad at the university later today, he's probably going to start crying into a megaphone in front of everyone. Oh, God. My cheeks enflame already.

So as I turned around to face my house, I realized my dad was not going to be the only thing I would be leaving. Those giant white doors, and that lovely front porch with the swing… I was truly saying goodbye to them, too. I would be living in a new home, with new people, and new rules… everything was going to be so different. I wasn't used to different. I don't want different.

I kind of wanted to cry very suddenly, so I quickly blew my house a kiss and hopped into the passenger side of the blue mustang beside me. I could feel Oliver's gaze, and I looked at him with a sad smile.

"You ready?" he asked. "No potty run real quick?"

I nodded. "Only you, Oliver."

"Only I what?"

"Would call a bathroom a potty still when we're heading off to _college_…"

He laughed. "Who said I had to grow up?"

And though he had posed a rhetorical question, I found myself answering anyway.

_You already have, Oliver. You already have.  
_

* * *

My head leaned out the window as we drove along. I was feeling very tired from not having much sleep, but I have to admit that I was very glad Oliver was driving for once, despite his obnoxious automobile rules.

A good twenty minutes into the ride, I began thinking more about what was going on. I was really, truly leaving home. No turning back. I spotted Malibu there in the distance, but… I wasn't going back this time. I was… really leaving.

And that's when the waterworks finally kicked in.

Oliver immediately seemed to straighten at my sobs. "Whoa, you okay?"

"I—yes, I think… maybe," I choked.

"Er, what's wrong?"

"I just realized how much I'm going to miss my dad. I'm not independent…" I looked at him, and my watery eyes grew wider. "Oh my God! I can't do this! Turn the car around!"

"What? Miley, no, that's cra—"

"TURN IT AROUND!" I grabbed forward for the wheel and he yelped, pushing me away as the car did a slight swerve.

"Miley, stop it!"

I started sobbing again, and he grew quiet and snuck a consoling arm around my shoulders. I needed it. So who knew that the next thing coming out of his mouth would be, "Is it that time of the month?"

I immediately smacked him hard on the shoulder, and he let out another yelp.

"Hey! What I'd do now! I was trying to be the comforting best friend!"

I glared, "Whatever," and then turned back towards the outside world.

"Geesh… just trying to help."

I sighed, now wanting the whole subject to be avoided. I never did like crying or leaking any sign of true emotion around Oliver for some reason. "Sorry… just… Oliver… are you, are you nervous about college? Honestly?"

"A little bit. I mean, new school… kinda scary."

"People aren't going to like me." I frowned. "They never do."

"Is _that_ what you're seriously worried about?"

"Sort of," I paused briefly, considering my thoughts and what I was so mainly concerned over, "and, like—oh, wait, never mind, you _don't_ want to know."

"Oh no, I do want to know."

"No, you reaaally don't." I shook my head furiously as he gave me a death look.

"Yes I do. Official life rules—you don't bring up a secret thing in conversation and then act like the other person shouldn't care what that secret is."

Damnit. He's got me there.

"Okay, okay, but you asked for it…" I let out a huge breath. "I'm scared about… sex."

As if it were quiet enough with the radio off, I swear someone must've added ten more drops of silence after I made _that_ remark.

"What—er—what do you mean?" Oliver got out, awkwardly I noticed.

"Well, uh, don't people normally… um… have sex in college?"

Continued silence for a moment.

"Um… I guess…"

I glared at him. "Oh, don't even act like you haven't thought about it either!"

"You having sex?"

"No! YOU! Ya doughnut!" I stifled a giggle at my word-choice.

But Oliver, on the other hand… he didn't even look even _somewhat_ amused this time. Instead, _extremely_ uncomfortable. Thus making me feel uncomfortable as well. And his cheeks were flashing red and everything. "Er…"

"Ya see! Are you nervous about it?"

"Um… I don't know."

"Why are you acting so weird?" I questioned, baffled at the new octave his voice had reached.

"You realize what we're talking about, right?"

"Yeah, but it's not that big of a deal."

He licked his lips. Nervous trait of his. But, wait, what's there to be so nervous about right now?

"Don't you think this is weird for us to talk about?"

"No." I gave him another glare. "We talk about _everything_, Oliver. How come whenever I try talking about sex, you manage to avoid the conversation?"

"Because it's weird. I don't want to think about my best friend getting it on with someone else."

"Someone…else?" I looked at him oddly and blinked a few times.

"I meant someone in general," he babbled quickly.

Settling myself back into the seat, and crossing my arms, I rolled my eyes. "God, you are so immature, Oliver."

"Maybe," he answered casually.

"You're never gonna get laid."

"Not true."

My head snapped back to him in interest. "Oh, so you _are_ going to have sex in college?"

"I didn't say that!" he defended at once.

"You implied it."

"Fine, you caught me. I'm gonna get my fuck on."

"What?!" I yelled disgustedly at his words, almost hitting my head on the roof of the car in surprise.

"_Chillll_," he laughed, "if I decide to… you know, it's… going to be with someone I care about. Someone, I… love."

"Awwww, really?!" I could barely believe such words were coming out of the perverted doughnut's mouth! You'd think he'd be saying something like, "I'm gonna screw every pair of Double D's that walks my way," or something, but shockingly enough, it seems as though he might have a heart and soul after all. I smiled at my best friend with pride.

After a moment of looking at me, he then added, "Unless some hobo buttrapes me in the hallways."

My brows automatically knitted together. "What would a hobo be doing in the hallways?"

"Me if I'm not careful."

I burst out laughing. "Oh my God, Oliver…. hahahaha. But, you—you know what? I think I'm going to live up to the same thing as you. I won't do it unless it's with someone I truly love or care about. No one night stands for me. Ever."

"That's good to know. I'm proud of you." A pause. "So, wanna do it?"

I laughed and hit him as his smirk appeared. "Oliver, shut up."

* * *

The dorms were effing huge.

When we pulled up, I seriously died. Oliver and my dad had to call the ambulance and everything. Okay, kidding obviously, but for real—looking at the university… This place couldn't be real. It was, like, something you could only dream about. I'd seen pictures, yes, but those seemed so… _small_ compared to this.

The rooms were stretched out into four huge and horizontal rows, meeting each other in an X-shape, with palm trees lining against the windows. Just a little behind the dorms, I spotted a glimpse of the main building—but I was too engrossed with the dorms to really give it a second glance at the moment.

"Wow, looks like this is gonna suck," my dad joked to my left, and I smiled, reaching immediately over to hug his side out of pure excitement.

Unloading all of my junk took some time. Of course, we could only bring the stuff to the main lobby yet for inspection, which I found kind of rude. But I guess in the past the university has claimed to have trouble with kids holding guns in their dorm rooms, and they aren't really feeling like a Virginia Tech repeat here. But honestly, the chances of a school-shooting happening are one in a million.

But anyways, so—saying goodbye to Dad, you know?

…a lot harder than it sounds. A looot.

_I_ was the one crying and not wanting to let go.

"I'm gonna miss you, bud," he told me endearingly, squeezing me as tightly as he could against him, and I cried some more like a baby into his stomach.

"I'm gonna miss you, too!" I bawled before he released his firm grip and lifted my chin to look down into my eyes.

"You're gonna be great, Miles, ya understand me? I want phone calls at least once a week. I'd say everyday, but that's not cutting the cord."

"The cord will never be fully cut, dad." I smiled at him through my tears, and he leaned down to place a soft kiss on top of my hair.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

"I…" he stopped, observing me strangely for a brief second. "I think—your mom would've been proud, bud."

And then, without another single word, I enveloped him into our last embrace.

* * *

Checking in was, well, shockingly easy. The lady at the main lobby had a ridiculously contagious smile (she also had fire engine red hair, if that matters), and she was very quick at handing Oliver and I our room keys. It probably took no less than ten minutes, when I had previously been dreading something like forty-five minutes or so.

I looked at my room key in interest as the red headed woman—I think she called herself Mrs. Tarner or something—handed me another paper, also stating that it held my dorm number. She followed this by handing Oliver a sheet as well.

"Number 611," Oliver declared immediately and then jingled his key innocently in my direction—posing a question without speaking.

"744," I frowned as I read it. "The top floor?"

I watched Oliver's expression sag from the corner of my eye. "Oh, don't tell me you're still scared of heights."

"Er, I'm not. I got over that two years ago, remember?"

"I would hardly call screaming your lungs out your ears on a roller coaster convincing."

I glared at him and began to stomp away, the loudness of each step increasing as I heard his muffled laughter behind me.

* * *

It was strange to live in a place with an elevator, but I'm not complaining. It'd definitely come in handy when carrying my entire luggage upstairs later. But still, the top floor? Really? This was so not a good way to start off college life. I'm already gonna die. I'll just have to not look out the window or something…

Oliver rode up to my room with me, though I'm not sure why he didn't just get off at his floor instead. But whatever, I was kind of shaking because the probability of my roommate behind the door was likely, as Mrs. Tarner had suggested. Oliver's roommate had yet to arrive. I couldn't help but be a little envious.

We approached the door in curiosity. There was a bright yellow 744 blazed on the center of its top, and I hesitated to knock. Oh my god, I was then beyond nervous. What if my roommate's a creep?! Who, like… collects bugs or snakes or rats?! Or, or, does voodoo?!

"Welllll, I'm going to go check out my room now," Oliver suddenly announced amidst my thoughts, and I gaped at him as he made a movement to walk away before I seized his arm.

"What do you think you're doing!" I hissed. "You're staying right here!"

"No way. You're doing this alone."

"But Oliver—"

"No, Miles—you need to do this alone. I'll stop by later, okay?" He took a step away from me, and I abruptly felt cold and alone and, and, and even _more_ frightened than I ever thought I'd be.

"Oliver!" I pleaded, but he walked further backwards down the hall, smiling like this was some kind of funny game to him.

"You'll be fine," was his try at reassuring. "They'd be crazy not to like you."

Well, I had to kinda smile at that. How strangely… _sweet_? What was up with all this weird nice comments he was making lately?

"Awww! Thanks!" I told him graciously, and his face twitched as he rolled his eyes. Basically, he was _attempting_ to look annoyed, but failing miserably.

"Yeah, yeah, just knock on the door already. I'll see ya later."

"Okay… bye, Oliver!"

"Ciao."

And he disappeared behind elevator doors.

Leaving me with this big giant gray one in front of me.

I took a deep breath, straightening my posture as I did so, and proceeded to unlock the door, casually swinging it open.

And. The. Place. Was. A. Mess.

There were clothes everywhere, magazines everywhere, movies everywhere, and very, very loud angry music booming off the ceiling and the off-white colored walls. Wait, uh oh. Angry music? Not a good sign…

"Hello?" I yelled, but I still couldn't even hear myself over the stereo, so I tried again, but louder, "_Helloooo_?"

No one was answering and I hesitantly walked over to one of the beds, grimacing when I saw three, half-full and open bags of Cooler Ranch Doritos. I noticed a picture frame next to the nightstand next to the bed, and was about to touch it when I was startled half to death by the music coming to an abrupt stop, and a distorted yell of, "Who are you, and how are you in my room?!"

I speedily turned around and saw a girl with a long, messy blonde ponytail hanging over a shoulder. In one of her arms she held a gigantic bowl of what looked to be Fruity Pebbles, and in the other, she had a silver spoon pointed accusingly at me, and it then occurred to me that her yell had only sounded so funny because her mouth was probably full of cereal.

She was not really much shorter than I was, but truth be told, that wasn't the first thing I noticed about her. That first thing happened to be…

…her _basketball shorts_.

And my heart suddenly felt sick.

She liked sports. She could be… _athletic_. Oh my GOD, I'd rather have the voodoo!

"Um, sorry, I'm Miley," I said awkwardly, "Your, uh, roommate?"

Her eyes widened, and the cereal bowl she was holding was quickly set on the nearest object she could find. After swallowing whatever was left in her mouth, she flung herself like a lioness at me with her arms. "Miley!" she hollered, and her hug intensified.

I uncomfortably patted her back, and she must've gotten the message (or so I thought) and released me before jamming out a hand. I stared at it in bewilderment, then back at her before finally deciding to give it a shake.

With teeth full of rainbow colored bits, she grinned. "It's nice to meetcha, Miley, my name's Lilly Truscott."

* * *

**YAY LIIILLLLYYY!! I love Lilly. Even if the show right now has taken a HORRIBLY WRONG AND RANDOM TURN THAT HAD NO BUILDUP WHATSOEVER WHEN A CERTAIN OTHER SHIP DID... okay, vent done. Sort of. Boo HM writers. You people get two thumbs down. Actually, more than that, since I'm pretty positive I'm not the only Moliver fan out there...**

**Anyways, thoughts on this chapter? I'd love to hear them. :)**


	5. meeting the south pole

**You guys might hate this chapter because it focuses more on Lilly than anything else. But because she is an AU character, she needs a lot of setting up to do so you can realize why she's so different…**

**But still, of course there's some Moliver references as there is in every chapter. Because we need Moliver. Since it'd probably be shown in a way less superficial way than how the writers are portraying (gag) Loliver. Seriously, how did that become canon again???**

**Enough of my rant. Enjoy this chappie if you can because I don't think the writing's too great since I got lazy. Haha.**

**Disclaimer: Yeah, because "Olly-pop" and "Lilly-pop" would be occurring if I owned the show. RIGHT. (pukes)**

* * *

**HeartWare  
**by Broken Oken

_chapter four: meeting the south pole_

* * *

As our hands grasped, I deeply observed her naked and zit-free face, and inside, I grimaced. This Lilly Truscott girl did not come without attractive features—and there wasn't even the slightest trace of black or color outlining her green-blue eyes, and I noticed no lipstick present, or blush, or even foundation. I was stunned into the realization that if Lilly actually did wear make-up today, and perhaps some kind of outfit other than the boyish attire she had chosen, she could easily pass for some kind of a model.

"Nice to meet you, too, Lilly," I politely replied to my new roommate. "I'm Miley Stewart."

"Of course you are," she said with a silly grin. "I was wondering when you'd get here."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I let my face respond with a small half-smile. I felt so strangely awkward and shy around this girl. She was practically flawless in what appeared to be a lazy appearance—it's pretty intimidating—and I was still absorbing just how different we seemed to be just from merely our first impressions. There laid a thin, lime green headband that held her _blonde_ bangs back, her top half was clad in a white t-shirt two sizes too big, and of course, those _basketball shorts._

I glanced behind her and subtly noticed the absence of something. Well, my version of subtly anyways being that Lilly realized I my "hidden" heartbroken-ness and turned around herself before sadly proclaiming, "Yeah, I know… no TV. I don't have one."

"Er, that's okay," I made myself say again out of politeness, though I was now becoming fearful. Everyone is aware that TV can be an excellent way to avoid conversation. So what if Lilly and I had nothing to talk about? I couldn't just grab the remote and switch on MTV or something.

Lilly's cheerful expression sort of faltered, and not wanting to worry her, I continued, "I'll just steal my best friend's. They don't need it anyway."

I was successful. Any hint of unhappiness disappeared in her face and was replaced with amusement. "Don't need it? Are you kidding me?" When I didn't reply again, she walked back to where she had set her cereal bowl and picked it up to take another bite of it. "Ish nesshty win a dunt have one it ome."

I stared at the Oliver-like image presented before me. I tried my very best not to cringe. "Uh… what?"

She didn't even look embarrassed—another Oliver-ish characteristic—as she swallowed down another glob of the Fruity Pebbles. "I said that it's a necessity when you don't have one at home. I obviously don't… but my family is seriously crazy."

I laughed. "My dad's pretty crazy himself."

"Oh no, no, seriously—your dad's probably crazy in the good way." She walked to the edge of what I assumed to be her bed, and tossed herself onto the mountain of gossip magazines. "My family is kind of, um, religious."

I blinked and sat down on my own bed; secretly smiling at how empty and clean it was when compared to Lilly's. "That's not a bad thing, or crazy thing."

"It is when they don't believe in television," she mumbled, "Or the Internet. Or movies rated higher than PG."

My eyebrows flew to the ceiling. "Wait—what?"

Lilly looked back at me—she either looked embarrassed or guilty, I wasn't sure. "Yeah. They're strange kind of crazy. I've been sheltered my whole life."

I was pointblank horrified at the information coming from her mouth. I wasn't sure if I could handle having a roommate who couldn't do any of these things.

"So…" I struggled to hide any judgmental tone to my voice, "you've never… seen a PG-13 movie? Or watched television?"

She let out a wild laugh. "Are you kidding? Of course! When I was sent away to boarding school during high school, I got roomed with a girl I became good friends with, so that during breaks, we'd go to her house and I'd go technology crazy."

At the mention of 'boarding school', my heart had begun to increase rapidly because I was beginning to think that maybe Lilly and I were even more different than I had even assumed. However, as she had continued, I got to slump my shoulders in relief. "Oh, good, I was a little worried there for a sec."

"Don't blame ya. Trust me, I'm a normal girl." She mindlessly twirled a piece of her ponytail with a finger before adding, "With psycho-ass parents."

"I'm sure they just love you," I laughed.

"Yeah, well, I'd rather be hated in this case." She smiled and as she glanced around the room, her happiness seemed to grow. "Don't know how I got them to let me come here. I must've gotten the abstinence speech forty-two million times on just the ride here."

"Oh wow, really?"

"Yeeeep. My parents aren't so big on boys. Dad especially."

"Your dad and mine have that in common." I said, suddenly picturing the shotgun above our living room's fireplace.

It grew quiet again before Lilly had suddenly clapped her hands together and looked at me expectantly. "So, you wanna go pick up your luggage or something?"

"Er, do you think they're done checking it already?"

"Psh, yeah, most likely. They'd only _really_ check it out if they had reason to suspect you of carrying a weapon."

"Hope they didn't find the bomb yet," I joked, and Lilly chuckled.

"Me either. We might need it later if this place sucks."

I laughed with her as we both headed for the room's exit. Maybe we'd be good friends after all.

_

* * *

_

As Lilly and I dragged my luggage into the elevator, I suddenly noticed a large purple bruise near the back of Lilly's left knee. I didn't want to say anything, but sometimes I'm unable to control the things that spill from my mouth—an annoying trait I was pretty sure I'd picked up from a certain Oliver Oscar Oken.

So, trust me to just blurt at her as she pressed the seventh floor button, "Whoa, what happened to your leg?"

Lilly turned to me with mild puzzlement, before directing her own eyes to the injury. "Ohh, you mean this one?" I stared at her some more, wondering what on earth else I _could_ be talking about before she pointed to the shin of her right leg as well. And there lay _another_ bruise. "Or this one?"

"Er, both?" I guessed, flabbergasted.

She grinned at me shamelessly. "I skateboard."

_Why didn't this surprise me?_

"Really?" I asked for some reason anyways.

"Yeah. I know it's kinda weird… but because my parents are all strict and stuff, I got into just about every sport you could think of since they're one of the few things they approve of. Skateboarding is pretty much my favorite thing to do. Do you like any sports or anything?"

_Oh, geez._

"Well, I… like them," I partly lied, nervous that Lilly would get the wrong overall impression that I was only a stupid girly girl. "I just kinda suck at them… er, but I love dancing." I had no idea where that thought had even come from because dancing had very, very, very little to do with the current subject.

"Dancing is totally fun," Lilly remarked. "I used to take lessons."

I perked up a little bit. "Yeah? I never actually took lessons… except ballet a long time ago in like, the second grade. My best friend took them with me."

I held back a laugh. 'Til this day, it amuses me that Oliver had once been at my side in a dance studio, leotard and all. But since he wanted me to do bowling with him, and I had to suffer through at least seven gutter balls each game, I made him do ballet with me, and got the pleasure of watching him twirl around and fall every two seconds. _Good times, good times._

"Ah, cool, cool," Lilly said as the elevator doors reopened and walked outside, rolling oen of my suitcases along behind her. "So did your best friend come to college with you… or?"

"Yep. Yours?"

"Cha. Couldn't live without the bee eff eff."

Following after with my own hands full of my things, I definitely had to smile at the truth of her words.

* * *

From the moment I unlatched my first suitcase, it seemed as though time had been frozen. However, even though it was taking an unbearably long time, unpacking was surprisingly way easier than I had imagined. Lilly even assisted me in the boring task, which I thought was pretty cool of her since I had only met her maybe three hours ago. This also put me in a guilty sort of mood—I hadn't arrived early enough to help _her_ unpack all of her belongings. So while it allowed Lilly to look like an even nicer of a person and roommate, it just left me feeling shallow. So I finally announced to her that the next time she needed help with anything, I'd oblige without question.

Nonetheless, there wasn't much talking as we unpacked. Instead Lilly blasted her ancient-looking radio (bunny-eared antennae and all), and we hummed along to various music artists. Relief washed over me; it was good to know we at least shared the same taste in music. I was pretty worried we'd find hardly anything in common. It was like the North Pole meeting the South Pole. I mean, if the two of us attended a skate park together, Lilly would be spending her time on the half-pipe, wowing the entire crowd, while I'd rather just sit and _watch_ the talent… Okay, really I'd probably only be there just to look at the guys, as pathetic as it sounds. But still, rooming together might be a challenge. We seemed pretty opposite. And not to mention, the scars alongside her arms and legs told me she was a pretty tough girl to keep doing the things she was doing. I'm so weak sometimes that it's ridiculous.

Once upon a long and stupid time ago, Oliver tried to teach me to skateboard. But all I ended up doing was screaming and for him to, quote, "_Get me off this skateboard or I'm going to push you off a cliff,_" end-quote. Which, when you think about it, my threat sounds kind of crazy since I don't remember the last time I've been near a cliff with Oliver around. But it's how all that wobbling on his dumb skateboard made me feel—like I was _crazy_ for trying to do something just cause Oliver liked to do it.

You see, this trial-and-error process occurred during the awkward stage in junior high, in which boys and girls realize there is an explanation as to why we are _opposite_ genders, and that the only logical reason to get close anymore to a member of said opposite gender, is to become _more than friends_.

I didn't want on any circumstance to become more than friends with Oliver. So I had to figure out some other way and excuse to hang out with him more. Thus, my 'brilliant' idea of trying to get into anything he liked began. Skateboarding was part of this plan. So was baseball. Oh, and surfing.

Skateboarding only ended in bandages—lots of them.

Baseball was too scary. I couldn't handle having a ball thrown at my face. Like, they honestly expected me to catch that thing? Yeah, okay, _right._

And surfing… embarrassingly enough, hospitalization. It was Oliver's fault, though; he should've _refused_ to teach me like any _normal_ person would if I ever asked to learn something so dangerously un-me. But no. I had to attend my eighth grade graduation _in crutches_. Dad actually wanted me in a wheelchair, but then I saw no point in wearing a dress since everyone would just, well, see up it or something.

So, yeah, luckily—well, more like THANK GOD—high school came around, and it seemed cool to be friends with people of the opposite sex without getting your emotions in the way. I was still enforced to get more girl friends, however, since Oliver was on the dumb baseball team for the first two years, and spent every dumb waking moment being a dumb jock. I remember telling him if he didn't knock it off, I was going to bash his head in with a baseball bat, and then he started being my good friend again. He also quit baseball, but calm down, it wasn't because of me. I guess the coach told him during his sophomore year that he was wasting his time, so Oliver got pissed and quit. Kind of understandable.

Then, he was permanently glued to my side. And as much as I loved having friends of the same sex, it was irritating to have them all squeal over Oliver all the time like he was some kind of movie star hottie. _Gag me_. He's just _Oliver_, and it's all they ever wanted to talk about, so I eventually blew up in their faces and said they were using me to get to Oliver, and they were all, "Oh, you're jealous," like everyone always says, and then we became enemies. Sort of. I still had to deal with them all on a regular basis; we just decided not to talk anymore. Weirdly enough, I hardly missed them.

Wow. That was quite the little history. And I have no idea why I'm explaining all that when it only began with Lilly's hobby of skateboarding. _Huh_.

"Where do you want this?" I suddenly heard her ask behind me, and I whirled around to see her holding my blue guitar case.

Now, okay, I know I can be a little psychopath sometimes, but she was holding it upside down and everything, and I kinda couldn't help but have a minor heart attack. So immediately I ran over to her and snatched it from her hands with my eyes all wide and stuff.

She stared at me. Oops, the poor girl was frightened. I'm already scaring my own roommate. I so so _so _suck at dorm life so far.

"Sorry," I said awkwardly. "I'm just a little protective of LuLu."

_A little? You practically just ripped her limbs off._

"Lu…Lu?" Lilly repeated, dumbfounded.

Oh, now what? People think naming guitars is weird or something?

Okay, so maybe it sort of is. I mean, the _name_? … Better blame the parental unit.

"Um, my dad named her."

She looked at me humorously. "So you play guitar, huh?"

"Yeah, kind of just a hobby. My dad's awesome at it, so I made him teach me."

The room went silent after this statement. Uh oh. Was that too much information for the first day of meeting someone? 'Cause when I said that in my head, it didn't sound _that_ lame, but out loud… it totally kinda did.

"Do you write songs or anything?" she asked. I was halfway wondering if she was just coming up with random questions to fill in gaps of conversation, just so it would maybe _look_ like we were connecting or something?

I placed LuLu down next to my bedside, smiling at it with pride as I usually do. I probably looked like the biggest dork ever to Lilly. I mean, skateboarding next to playing guitar? Yeah, I _wonder_ what sounds cooler. _Psh_.

"Sometimes," I answered shyly. "But, uh, don't worry, you won't be hearing much of that mess while I'm here."

I don't sing in front of people. Well, except Oliver just because he's around twenty-four seven, so therefore, he has to hear me sing or I wouldn't at all. And he is always telling me there's no point in having a great voice if you can't share it with the world.

"How come?" Lilly, as expected, asked. "Taking too many classes?"

"No, just… I can't sing in front of people." I fumbled with the front of my shirt as I said it aloud. I really made no sense. I'm telling her I like to play guitar and write songs, but I don't _sing_ in front of people? Man, I hate admitting this, but Oliver is sorta… _right_… I mean, that _is_ kinda dumb, like I'm wasting my time with something I don't want people to see? At least with Lilly's skateboarding, she could probably do some flips or something in front of like eighty people, no problem. I'd just take one look at the people and faint.

I glanced to see her nod at me. "Oooh, one of _those _people," she said in this voice that worried me a little bit, like she was about to agree with Oliver or something. "Who secretly have amazing voices and refuse to share them with the world. A.K.A. people who piss me off."

I tensed a little bit in fear. "Um, sorry. I just—"

"I'm just kidding," she laughed.

Oh my God. Her 'I'm kidding' jokes are as bad as Oliver's.

"Nah, that's completely cool," she went on. "But just know, even if you are the worst singer in the world—well, you can't be. Because that honorary title belongs to mwah."

I couldn't help but chuckle. "Really?"

"Oh, yes. My mom even tried putting me in singing classes when I was little just so she wouldn't have to hear me _try_ to sing along with the radio." I watched her smile at the memory. "I think my teacher wanted her head on a silver platter. I can't hit a note for crap."

"Oh, wow," I said, still giggling. "I doubt you're that bad."

"Oh, I am. I only had class for about a week and a half before my teacher threw her arms up and was like, _'I can't take it anymore! This makes me regret being a teacher!'_"

"Whoa."

"Just kidding again. But I did only take a week and a half of it because I knew I was damaging the poor lady's eardrums. And since my mom had already heard me sing a thousand times, I figured no further damage could be done."

I laughed again and was about to reply with how Oliver can sometimes sound like a dying rhinoceros when he sings when our door burst open, and someone thudded into the room. Lilly shrunk back in alarm, and I turned around with scared eyes.

"_Miley_!"

"Oliver?"

Oh my God. Speak of the freaking DEVIL.

_What was he doing in our room without knocking?!?_ I WAS JUST STARTING TO MAKE A CONNECTION WITH MY FREAKING ROOMMATE WHO I THOUGHT WOULD HAVE NOTHING IN COMMON WITH ME!

"Oliver," I said, this time more like a statement and trying to keep my voice calm, but failing pretty miserably. "What—what are you doing in here?"

"You _know_ him?" Lilly's voice trembled behind me.

Oliver's anxious face snapped to hers, and, _seriously disgustingly enough_, scanned her over with his eyes. "Oh, _hi_, I'm Oliver." His tone had dropped lower. He _would_ try to hit on my roommate. _So typical_. "I'm sure Miley's told you about me."

Lilly rose an eyebrow. "Um… no."

I felt sort of guilty for not mentioning him, but then I remembered how he had entered the room, and suddenly, I didn't feel bad at all.

"Oliver, this is Lilly. She's my roommate. And I think you just did an _excellent_ job of _embarrassing me in front of her_!" I yelled at him, and he offered me a nervous smile.

"Um, yeah, sorry for not knocking, I just—"

I interrupted with a point to the door. "Go back, and let's try this over, by _knocking_. You know, like a normal human being who wasn't raised in a cave."

"But—"

"I said GO!"

He hurriedly exited the room as I glared after him. I glimpsed at Lilly. She looked so confused—poor girl. Oliver seemed to have that effect on women.

A few seconds later, I surprisingly _did_ hear knocking. You know, rather than feet just _stomping their way into the dorm without permission_… So, as sweetly as I could, I called, "Who is it?"

"Oh, just let me in!"

I laughed at his supposed 'angry' voice, and walked to the door to open it. Oliver, of course, was standing there with his arms folded. "Oliver!" I exclaimed. "Nice of you to drop by."

"Miley, I _swear_—"

I didn't bother with his lame threat and just grabbed his arm, proceeding to throw him inside towards a very startled Lilly.

"Um, hello," she said, blinking her eyes repeatedly.

He smirked at her. Oh, no.

"Why, _hello_ there, beautiful. I'm Oliver Oken," he flirted and took her by the hand. I watched this with raised eyebrows and hot cheeks. He was so ridiculously embarrassing sometimes. I couldn't even believe it.

In one swift movement, however, Lilly moved her other hand to smack his off hers. I smiled happily. That was a nice change, to have someone else slapping him other than me. Now the abuse could be divided.

Oliver squeaked and jumped back, holding his own hand now, and looking at her with a crooked grin. "Ooh, I like em feisty."

"Not in this lifetime," she retorted.

I laughed. I was really starting to like this girl. She wasn't like the stuck up ones back in high school. "Oliver, I believe you have officially met Lilly Truscott."

Oliver was still eyeing her flirtatiously—okay, _sick_—and she just responded with a roll of her eyes.

"So, how do you know him?"

"We're best friends," Oliver and I chorused together, then eyeballing each other oddly at the coincidence.

"Wait," Lilly inspected Oliver more closely. "Your best friend is a _guy_? The same one you said took ballet with you?"

Oliver made an interesting choking noise, and I let out a wild laugh. I had forgotten I had even told her about that.

"Oh, yes, that's definitely him."

"Oh my GOD!" Lilly started laughing hysterically. Oliver kicked me on the ankle and growled at me.

"Now I'll never have a chance with her!" he whispered angrily.

"You never did, cowboy," I said, imitating his smirk. "Now, why are you here anyways?"

"Oh yeah!" I could just envision the light bulb going off above his head. "Guess who's roommate won't be here until tomorrow!"

_As if his singsong tone didn't give me a hint at all_. _Hmm_. I _wonder_…

"Wild guess here, but yours?" I asked sarcastically.

"Yessssssir!" he said, grinning like an idiot. I think he thought I was seriously just guessing, too. "Do you know what that means?"

"You get to jack off in peace?"

His face colored instantly. "_MILEY_!"

And Lilly went right back to laughing all over again. It kind of made me smile—maybe I was looking like less of a loser to her by the second. With Oliver around, I could easily show her there were dorkier people on this earth than Miley Stewart.

"I'm just kidding, Ollie," I said in a baby voice, patting his shoulder as he gave me a mean look. "What does it mean?"

"Well, I _was_ gonna suggest that you can come over and stay the night…"

Lilly's laughing subdued. I gaped at him. Wait, was he _seriou_s? I mean, he wasn't continuing… oh, great… he _is_.

"Oliver," I spoke slowly. "In college, boys and girls only _sleep together_, not sleep together."

"I know, but we aren't like that!" he dismissed. "I just thought it'd be cool because, like, it'd be just like high school, except I won't have to sleep on your couch that gives me a back ache, and your dad won't be looming around like a vulture the entire night!"

Lilly looked at me strangely and then using two index fingers, pointed to us. "You guys… _sleep _together?"

"Ewww, no, not _that _sleep together," I said, blushing. Like, honestly. I don't understand where people get these outrageous ideas all the time.

"She wishes," Oliver remarked, and I had no choice but to hit him.

Lilly kept her outlandish stare. "So, you just _sleep_ over at each other's houses?"

"Yep."

She glanced at Oliver at his reply, and then directly back at me. "Your dad lets a _boy_ stay the night? And you over at his house, too?"

She sounded amazed. Like this was a really big deal or whatever.

Was it such a big deal? I mean, we're just best friends. Except, she might not really understand that yet. I mean, that's a concept that usually takes awhile for people to grasp with us.

"Yeaaah, he wasn't too crazy about the idea at first," I grinned. "So Oliver always sleeps on my downstairs couch, and I sleep upstairs. But I've only slept over at Oliver's once."

"Because my mom found us in the same bed," Oliver, to my utter humiliation, added.

I seriously thought about ripping his intestines out right then and there.

"_The same bed_?" Lilly asked incredulously.

"_Oliver_!" I pulled at the ends of my hair. "Do you _know_ what's coming out of your mouth sometimes?!"

"I don't know, but _you_ sure don't! This is payback for the ballet thing!"

I spun to Lilly with a serious face. "I'd like to add that, yes, indeed, he wore tights."

Oliver gasped beside me. "Well, she—_she_ was the one that jumped into bed with me!"

"I was cold, and you offered! And it's not like we slept on the same side! I made you sleep upside down!"

"Which, by the way, gives you a headache when you wake up!"

"Well, sor-_ry_," I stated snobbishly, "next time I'll just freeze to death on your icy cold floor!"

"GUYS!"

Our arguing put on the breaks, and we both turned to see Lilly with her hands up and face petrified beyond reason.

"You guys are best friends? Seriously?" she asked, waiting for our nods. "You're—you guys are gonna kill each other."

"Sorry," I apologized, now embarrassed of my childish behavior. There went my so-called cool points. "I just… I didn't want you to think we're… um, _involved_."

Lilly arched a brow. "That idea went out the window the minute I was told he was Ballet Boy."

Oliver scowled, and I faintly chuckled. "Oh, well, sorry you had to see us like that. We actually get along pretty well. Never been in a serious fight before."

"Really now?" she inquired dryly. "That's hard to believe."

"No, really," Oliver put in, for once being some help. "I've known her since second grade."

"Second grade?" Lilly seemed to perk up for some reason. "That's impressive. I've only known Andrea since freshman year of high school."

"Who's Andrea?" I asked curiously.

"Oh, that's my best friend. You'll meet her eventually."

Yet again, why am I surprised that a girl has a _girl _best friend? Over ninety-five percent of the population is in best friend relationships with their own sexes. Yay for me and Oliver being that rare five percent, I guess.

Oliver had then smiled. And he asked it before I could stop him, "She hot?"

I stomped onto his foot lightly, and Lilly rolled her eyes. "Um, just gonna ignore that. So, Miley, are you, uh, gonna stay over at—um—" she squinted her eyes in Oliver's direction. "Er, sorry, I can't remember your name—"

"Oliver!" he whined.

"Right, _Oliver_… I'm just gonna call you Ballet Boy, alright?" he sneered at her, but I don't think she noticed or cared. "But, Miley, are you gonna stay over at his dorm? And it's totally cool if you do, I'm supposed to stay at Andrea's tonight anyway—her roommate's still not here, and she doesn't want to sleep in her dorm room alone yet. And I really didn't think you were coming until tomorrow."

I looked at Oliver. "I don't know. Does it make me look like a…" I shortly battled with the idea of saying the word, and finally gave it a go, "well, a _whore_ to stay over at a guy's place the first night I'm here?"

"Nah. You guys are just friends." she paused. "Supposedly."

"We are," I told her with confidence.

"Even after this night together _aloooone_?" Lilly's voice had gone terribly evil. And I wanted to kill her.

"I'll have to keep her off of me, but yes," Oliver said with his usual smirk, and I now wanted to kill him, too.

God, maybe I should just kill _myself_.

"Well, I say go for it, Miley," Lilly said with a weak thumbs-up. "The campus is still kinda empty since most people aren't arriving until tomorrow. Just be sure to get out of it by noon or something."

"Uh, why?"

"Cause thennn," she stretched the 'n', "it might look bad if you're seen leaving his place, if you catch my drift."

I eyed Oliver quickly, and he smiled. "Okay… and fine… I'll sleep with you."

God. I couldn't believe I was going to do this. On my first night on campus, I was already going to be over at a guy's place. And I had promised Daddy I would never do that. But, Oliver isn't a boy. He's a _he_, but not a _boy_ boy, you know? So, technically, I'm not breaking any rules… yet…

"Okay then," Oliver agreed, bringing me back from my thoughts. "Miley, I expect _you_ to bring a condom this time, I used all of mine up the last time I stayed over."

"_OLIVER!_ YOU KNOW WHAT I MEANT!"

He walked out of the room laughing idiotically, and I crossed my arms, peeking back over at Lilly. She smirked, and I found it was rather similar to the one Oliver always gave to me.

"What?" I asked her, wondering if the same perverted mess would follow out of her mouth as well.

"Nothing," she said all mysteriously and walked into the bathroom. I stared after her, and then I slumped onto my bed with a frustrated sigh. Might as well get all my sleepover crap together…

And no, that doesn't include a damn condom.

* * *

**Bwahaha. Sleepover chapter next! =) And the emergence of another character you all know. Whee.**

**Please reviewwww! :D**


	6. above my comfort level

**I know I haven't updated in awhile. Sorry. Been really sick all week, but summer's finally began, soo hopefully I'll have more time to work on this. :)**

**ENJOYYY!**

**Disclaimer: noooooopeeeee.  
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**HeartWare  
**by Broken Oken

_chapter five: above my comfort level_

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I took another quick glance at the crumpled piece of scratch paper in my right hand. _Room 119_. Um, I think that's what Oliver wrote on it anyways. His handwriting is like chicken scratch, but worse. I bet you chicken _cursive_ looks readable compared to this crap…

But, you know, I was not only puzzled at the number's illegibility. I had thought Oliver lived on the floor just _below_ me—_in fact, I was quite sure of it_—but _119_ indicated he was actually located on the first floor, and not the fifth after all. Kinda weird. Maybe Oliver lied earlier. Except I have no idea why he would do that.

I stared at the number again just to be certain of what I was reading, and looked up to see the matching golden _119_ plastered onto the door in front of me. Shrugging, and since I didn't have much of a clue of what else I should do, I decided to knock. Ok_ay_. No one seemed to be answering. _Great_. This is so like him. He _would_ make me look like a complete idiot, too—standing out in a boys' floor hallway, holding a damn light pink pillow, and Beary, and my pink FUZ slippers, _and_ a bag of my overnight essentials.

Growing beyond irritated, I began to knock louder. "Helll_ooo_!" I called rather furiously.

_Success!_ I heard heavy footsteps on the other side of the door. Finally the 'doughnut' was going to answer after me sitting out here for ten centuries. But it's not too much of a surprise, I guess, since sometimes Oliver can be slower than a slug in peanut butter. Not that I would know why a slug would be in peanut butter 'cause that's just grossly wrong… unless that's like, a foreign delicacy or something somewhere, then no offense.

The knob rattled, but he seemed to be taking his dear sweet time just to swing open the door. By now, I was overboard impatient. I started tapping one of my fuzzy slippered feet against the hallway carpet. What felt like a _millennia_ later, the door squeaked itself ajar…

And I so did _not_ come face to face with my slower than slugs-in-peanut-butter best friend.

The face I met, however, was borderline "dictionary image of gorgeous". No, wait; he's not even borderline. This kid's photograph _should_ be in the damn dictionary under gorgeous. He probably _is_.

His eyes were dark and mysterious, probably big, but he was squinting confusedly so I couldn't really tell. He kinda appeared to look like I had just woke him. _Oops, my bad_. His jaw was perfectly shaped and full, and his hair was messy and dark brown, but a dash of blonde struck like lightning across his shaggy bangs. And you know, I used to think that would make a guy look like an idiot—but, well, let's just say my views had suddenly changed.

Dictionary Image of Gorgeous Boy rubbed his eyes. His lips—they were perfectly plump and totally kissable, by the way—fumbled awkwardly as he struggled to open them to say something. And at long last, his eyes landed on me.

Yep. Me. _In my jammies_. _And pink pillow_.

…And Beary. Oh my God. Well, no offense, Beary, but, yeah.

"Um, hi?" he asked me, obviously puzzled.

"Um, uh, um, um, errr." I don't know what the hell that was supposed to be, honestly. So, humiliated by my speech impediment, I followed up with a quick sputter of, "Does, uh, Oliver Oken live here?"

Thanks to my incredible "luck", he opened the door fully and _examined_ me. Like, oh my _God_. My first checkout by a boy at the university, and he happens to be the _epitome of perfection_, and I'm in my effing ducky pajamas.

Whoever says the world is fair, I'm throwing a freaking oversized rock at your head right now.

His expression told me I had baffled him more. Great. I had a feeling Oliver _did_ lie after all. But _WHYYYYYYYYY!?? _This is so not a rational payback about the ballet thing!

"Er, no," he said. "My name's Richie."

_Richieeeee_, my mind drooled like a high school girl.

Oh, right, I still had to respond… with my voice. Think MATURELY. You are a college girl now, Miley.

"Oh, uh, sorry then, I must have the wrong room number?"

Richie's eyes fell on the piece of paper in my hand, and carefully, he took it from me. I was kinda frozen at his hands—they were oddly callused-looking, so he wasn't a totally perfect human being, but whatever—being so close to mine. When he retrieved it within his grasp, he laughed for some reason. I think that was laughter anyways. Or music.

"W-what?" I asked. Yay for stuttering like a buffoon. Wait, buffoon?

"You were looking at this upside down," he chuckled, and I sort of died inside from how embarrassed I felt at that exact moment. "It's room _611_."

_Room 611_.

Of-_fucking_-course.

Room 611 _was_ on the fifth floor. As if I couldn't blush harder. I hurriedly (and bravely, because, let's face it, the boy's a model) snatched it from him.

"Oh, sorry, I just—wow, I'm an idiot." That made total sense, Miley. Way to go on the 'be mature' thing. "I'll just be on my way then."

Oh my God, I made a complete sentence in front of this guy?! _No _way.

And because I finally could control my voice, I scurried as fast as I could towards the elevator, not wanting anything else to come crawling out of my mouth. I am so awesome. Not.

As I was leaving, however, I very surprisingly heard Richie call out, "Hey, I didn't catch your name!"

He wanted my _name?!_ With my make-up done and proper clothing, sure, take my name, number, virgini—I mean, out on a date! But when I'm dressed like this, a.k.a. Bumzilla? Um, how about _no!?_

I didn't bother turning around as I boarded the elevator. I did _not _want him to know my name at all. I didn't want to be known as an idiot around campus already. Or the girl who still sleeps with a stuffed animal. And slippers.

So I hastily shouted the first thing I could think of, "_Lilly_!" and the doors closed.

Really, Miley? REALLY?

I totally just lied to him. Me and this Richie dude have a great relationship so far. Let's just hope I never run into him again. Or that he runs into the real Lilly.

When I got to the correct room of 611—you know, the number that appears when you freaking _turn 119 upside down_—I banged my fist frantically onto it, and this time the _right _face answered, smiling hugely until he noticed my sour one, which at that, drooped to a frown.

"Oh God, what'd I do now?"

"I went to room 119 cause I had the paper upside down!" I shouted insanely loudly, walking right by him and into his dorm. "And this other guy, Richie, who, by the way, is like, totally gorgeous, answered the door and saw me dressed like this, and, and, it was so humiliating, so thanks a lot, Oliver, and—"

I stopped mid-sentence as I spotted a certain something in his room.

"And? What else do you wanna blame me for?"

I didn't bother with a further insult or continuation of my rant; I simply kept staring at the object setting out on Oliver's bed. He appeared beside me then to see what I was so intrigued by, and laughed when he saw it.

"You still have that picture?" I asked in amazement. "I thought you lost it."

"I did," he admitted sheepishly. "But I found it in the bottom of one of my suitcases. Thought you would get a kick out of it. Although, I kinda wish it _was_ lost…"

I gazed at the photograph with a smile, placing it gently into my hands. A young Oliver Oken in _tights_ was standing there, folding his arms in anger as a young version of myself stood there next to him in a lavender tutu, my arm around his shoulders and a giant crooked-toothed smile (Thank God for braces). In the background, the mirrors of the dance studio reflected an image of my dad holding the camera.

"I'm not giving it to you," Oliver said suddenly, and violently took it away from me. Seriously, _violently_. He almost tore the thing in half. "You'll post it around the school."

I glared at him, reaching out to retrieve it back, but he pushed me way.

"Or worse, show it to your hot roommate," he added as an afterthought.

"I would not!" I argued. "Would you stop hitting on Lilly!"

"Why? _Jealous_?"

The/His Smirk appeared, and I barreled forward and tackled him over onto his small bed. I got up off of him immediately, pretending to dust off my hands. "_No_."

"Ooh, but I think you _areee_," he went on stupidly since that just prompted me to pounce right back onto him, shoving him roughly in the collarbone.

Strangely enough, as I was glowering my hate towards him, his eyes unexpectedly locked with mine. _Hm_. Interesting. Maybe his eyes aren't really poop-colored after all. They're actually kinda bright for being brown. Like, chocolatey even. Definitely not as mysterious as Richie's at least. I could actually _see_ the bubbly, light-hearted person that I knew inside of Oliver.

I guess I was looking so deeply into the 'chocolate' orbs that I hadn't realized how close Oliver's face had gained to mine. But when I did, my eyelashes fluttered multiple times in confusion. His head was—well, it looked like it was intentionally moving forward towards mine. What the heck was he doing? Was he going to bite me or something?

… Wait, he wasn't going to _kiss_ me, was he?

"Uh, Oliver?" I asked shakily as soon as the idea had properly registered, and quickly his head fell back down towards the bed in shock. Then he brutally threw me off of him, causing my butt to almost hit the floor, but I promptly caught my balance.

Ooookay, so maybe he _wasn't_ going to kiss me.

"Hey! What was that for?!" I huffed at him, unsure if I was asking about him pushing me away, or about how close his face had just been to my own.

"Just—" he paused for a second and then sighed angrily as if to dismiss whatever he was going to say entirely, "Sorry, nothing."

That couldn't have been an almost kiss, right? Oliver would _never_ kiss me. Maybe he thought _I_ was going to kiss _him_, so he threw me off of him like a good boy?

Psh. Kissing Oliver… right. Like that'll ever happen.

He was still lying there on the bed, not moving, even about a minute later. Why was he acting so out of character right now? He was the one all pumped for my getting over here, and now he's being so quiet and not as funny… well, I mean, he's never really funny, but at least he tries sometimes.

I leaned over him, smiling hesitantly. "You feeling okay?"

He rolled over onto his stomach. "Wonderful." Too bad his voice said otherwise.

However, I didn't want to bother him too much with an interrogation, so I took the chance to observe my surroundings. The room wasn't huge; it was about the same size as Lilly and I's… maybe a little bigger, though. The floor was carpeted light blue, and the walls were white. Oliver had set up his dresser in front of his bed, and a medium sized television set lay on top of it. Typical. Oliver was _so_ addicted to TV. There were also two separate doors—one that looked like it led to a bathroom, and the other, I wasn't completely sure.

Where in the world was I going to sleep?

"So, my sleeping arrangements," I stated, glancing back down at Oliver beside me.

"Umm…" he lifted his head warily. It seemed he was scanning the room for an appropriate place. "I would say the other bed in that other room over there, but some dudes came in to get rid of it."

I sat myself down on his bed next to his body. "That's kinda weird. Why?"

"I don't know." His shrug looked funny with him still lying down. "I guess my roommate is bringing his own bed with him tomorrow. Can you believe that? Who brings their own _bed_?"

"Apparently your weirdo roommate. But, really, where am I gonna sleep?"

I looked over at him as he rolled around again to face me. Giving me an awkward smile, he pointed to the bed we were on. "With me?"

Like an automatic reaction, I threw my pillow at his face. "You wish!"

"Well, it's that or the floor," he said, dodging the pillow so that it landed on the other side of the room.

I chased after it and tilted my head towards the area of carpet it now occupied. "The floor probably smells better."

"Miley, you can't be serious…"

I laid myself down onto the floor. "Hm, not bad. Kinda comfy."

"Miley! Sleep with me!"

I tipped my head to see his face peeking over his bed, with the most pitiful look I'd ever seen him give me probably the entire eleven or so years I'd known him.

"Never thought I'd hear _you_ begging, Ballet Boy."

I swear his face turned red for a split second before it changed back into its normal tanned appearance. "I meant like—oh, _you know_! I'll sleep upside down again!"

I hesitated at the idea. "Will I hear you complaining about it in the morning?"

"I'll try not to!"

His compromise was way-too-eager so I had to gawk a little. "Why is it such a big deal I sleep in your bed with you?"

"I—" he gazed at me, hesitating as if considering his words. "—don't want you to have back problems, and _I'm_ not sleeping on the floor either, so, we both are sleeping in this bed, _end of story_."

It seemed as if the battle had ended without my rebut, and since I felt too lazy to continue the debate, I got back onto my feet. "Okay, fine. But if you try _anything_ funny—"

"Don't you trust me?" Okay, as if that question was going to make me feel better.

"Last time I told you I did, Oliver, I ended up covered in pudding."

"Miley, you know I suck at baking!" he protested.

I gave him a look anyways. "We were making _cookies_, Oliver."

"Fine then. I'll just tell _myself_ that you trust me." He pouted with his lips and brought his legs to an Indian style position on his bed.

Smiling, I sat back down next to him. "Good boy." I patted his head, and just like I knew he would, he glared away from my eyes. "Now, I brought us something to watch."

My hands went for my bag before Oliver somehow had it up in the air, above his head.

"NO!" he shouted loudly as I stretched to reach it.

Oh, we were _so_ not playing this game tonight. I was not in the mood.

"Oliver!" I scowled. "Give me my bag!"

"If I do, I'll have to watch _FRIENDS_!" It's really ridiculous that he made it sound like it was the end of the world to do so. _FRIENDS_ is a great show. It has won awards for reasons, people.

"But what if Lilly doesn't like _FRIENDS_?" I asked, and he quirked a brow, meaning I had made a good point in his mind. "Then no one might ever watch it with me!"

"And that's… bad?"

My jaw hung at his statement, and now determined, I got to my knees to reach from the bed. His arm leaned backwards in the air, proving my task more difficult. I growled inwardly, pressing myself against his chest to stretch my arm more efficiently over his shoulder. As I did this, I felt Oliver fidget, and his movement caused me to fall against him.

My head landed specifically in, well, his crotch.

If anyone would've come in, I don't know how we'd get ourselves out of this one.

Oliver shrank back, however, and because of where my head landed, he was startled enough to (success again!) drop my bag.

I immediately jumped off Oliver to grab it, and triumphantly pulled out a season of _FRIENDS _DVD's. "_Victory_!" I proclaimed, expecting him to snatch it from me at any given second, but when he didn't, I glanced to see what he was doing instead. It appeared to be, well… nothing. He was still frozen in that seated position for some reason. Somewhat concerned, I prodded him with a finger.

I guess it must've been awkward for him, what had just happened, I mean. It wasn't for me, though. I don't know what it's like to have people's heads landing in my you-know-what. And oh my God, that just sounded disgusting.

But really, it was just an accident. I'm actually surprised he wasn't smirking and making some revolting comment like, "Geez, can't you wait until my pants are _off_, Miley?"

So I don't know why I said this next thing. I guess I, in a way, _wanted_ him to say something gross. Which is weird because I hate his perverted side.

I was like, "Betcha wish that was the real thing, eh?"

Like, honestly. Why did I say that?

He came back to planet earth at that, and looked at me with wide eyes, before settling them back to normal.

And, yes, he had The Smirk.

"I bet _you_ wish that was the real thing," he told me, and I actually had to laugh, which is unlike myself to do. I think I was just thankful he was done spacing out or something.

"Of course," I said happily, and then held up the FRIENDS DVD. His smile staggered as I thought it would. Putting on my best puppy-dog face, I batted my eyelashes at him pleadingly. "Pleeease? _Pleeeeeease?_ PLEEEEEEEEEEASE?!"

Nothing… nothing… theeeen….

"God, okay, just stop it already." He covered his eyes, and I clapped my hands together in excitement. I always loved it when I got my way.

After accomplishing all of my nightly deeds in Oliver's bathroom, I wondered back out towards his bed. I gaped. He was already snug in it—in precisely the spot where _I_ was supposed to sleep. He was _supposed_ to be sleeping upside down!

"Oliver! That's where I was gonna sit!"

He glanced at me and shrugged. "I know. But it hurts my back to watch TV on my stomach. So I'll just sit up here for a little while."

"Alrighty." I started to get into the bed next to him, and he jumped a little. I looked at him questioningly. "What's your problem?"

"I didn't realize you were gonna still try to sit here."

I gave him another funny look. "Um, where else would I go?"

"I don't know."

I rolled my eyes and got my lower half of my body underneath the covers. I smiled at Oliver next to me, before noticing he had scooted over to place a little distance between us. Ok_ay_. Who knows what his deal is, and don't really want to know at the moment. _FRIENDS_ is more important.

"Press play, please!" I commanded.

He sighed, and although I could tell he didn't want to, he followed my order anyways.

In the middle of our first episode, I had unconsciously leaned against Oliver. He started laughing once I practically had all my weight against him, and I glared, moving away from him. His laughing seemed to immediately stop for some reason.

"What?" I asked. "I can't even lean on you?"

"Lean on me," he said, breaking out in a wide grin. "When you're not strooooonng!"

"Seriously, Oliver? Do you _want_ to wake everyone up on your floor?"

"Maybe. But the guy next door—pretty sure he's awake."

"How do you know that?"

He shifted his eyebrows in what seemed to be surprise. "You don't hear it?" I shook my head, and he tilted his head to the right. "Just take a listen."

I turned the volume down with the TV remote, and very concentrated now, I began to listen.

My cheeks immediately burned.

There was a continual repeating rhythm of a _squeak, squeak, squeak, squeak _going on.

_Ahem._

"Oh my GOD!" I yelled, proceeding with gagging noises to which Oliver chuckled.

"Hey, one day that could be you."

"Uh, _no_, we've had this chat, Oliver. Not until I find someone I love."

"Good to hear."

"And until then, I gotta be my own heartware."

There was a few seconds of silence as I refocused myself on the TV, and for some reason, I felt too lazy to return the volume back up to a hearing range.

"Uh, heartware?" Oliver eventually repeated.

"I didn't tell you about this?" I blinked twice at him as he just stared at me. "My dad and I had this talk before I left college. He told me I need to find some new heartware… which is, I guess, something like protection for your heart. Something to keep the bad guys away from hurting it or something."

"Like some kind of bodyguard?"

"Kinda. I think."

He laughed shortly. "Haven't I been your heartware all along?"

"I don't know. Dad thought _he_ was."

"Well, _I'm_ taking over full-time. I'm gonna be your heartware, so Robbie don't have to worry about his widdle baby girl." Annoyingly, Oliver gave me a "noogie" on my head, and I pushed him away, forcing myself not to laugh.

"You as my heartware? I'll be raped in no time."

"No way." He swung an arm around me. "I would never, _ever_ let anybody hurt you, Mile. I love you too much for that to happen."

Whoa. My eyes widened at his words, and kinda 'cutely' enough, he turned a little red. _Aww_. As close as Oliver and I were, we would rarely ever make serious statements about how much we really cared about each other. Our friendship was based on stupid jokes and goofing off—so serious conversations were generally avoided since they promoted awkwardness… that it definitely seemed to be doing right now.

I turned my head from him and let it fall casually against his chin. "Okay… I _guess_ you get the job."

He snorted and one-armed hugged me once more. It lasted a little longer above my comfort level at the moment, so I pushed him away embarrassedly. "Hey, hey, no need to get all mushy and stuff."

"Say you love me, too," he teased.

"What? No."

"So you don't love me?"

"Of course I do."

"Then say it."

"Why?"

"Cause I don't believe you."

I glared at him straight in the eyes. "Fine! I love you, okay?"

For a second time that night, his eyes grew soft. It almost seemed as if the gap between our faces was closing again—not on my part by any means because I very suddenly could not move.

_WHAT THE EFF—I THINK HE'S GOING TO KISS YOU_, screamed my mind, but I remained frozen against my will.

He stopped maybe a centimeter away from my nose, squinting. Something inside of me turned itself upside down. He wasn't really going to do this, was he?

He sure answered my question.

He said, "You have a zit under your nose."

And like an instant reflex, I slapped him on the cheek, and turned away, bright red.

He moaned a little in pain as I refused to face him, still getting my face back to its normal hue. What was I _thinking_… again? Yeah, like Oliver would actually kiss you. You guys would never, _ever_ do that. Yuck. Sick. Wrong on ten thousand _million_ levels.

"_Whyyyy_?" he was moaning, rubbing his cheek.

I stammered out a, "B-Because you're stupid!" and he glared, settling his eyes back onto the TV screen as he should have been looking at in the first place—not so intensely into my eyes as he had been doing seconds earlier.

Still sort of confused at what had really transpired between us, I rubbed my temples to clear my mind and got back to my _FRIENDS_, just in time to watch Chandler and Monica share a quick kiss. _Ughhh_. Had that really almost… happened? Oliver and me, _kissing_? But that would require _two_ people. _I_ would not have kissed back. That is, if he was trying to kiss me in the first place, which is too bizarre of a behavior even for someone as unpredictable as Oliver Oscar Oken.

Anyways, after about six more episodes of _FRIENDS_, I could barely keep my eyes open. I glanced to see that astonishingly, Oliver seemed to still be wide-awake. "Oliver," I mumbled, lifting a hand to tug at his arm. "I'm falling asleep."

He grinned slightly. "Okay, let me just turn off _FRIENDS_—"

"No! Keep it on!" I argued tiredly, grabbing for the remote lazily before he could get to it.

"But you're falling asle—"

"I don't care. I like the TV on… It's pretty..."

Wow. I was tired. I had no idea what I was even saying anymore.

"Okay, Miles. I'm gonna move to the bottom of the bed now, okay?"

I barely nodded back when all of a sudden I felt my head crash against the mattress. I jumped up, looking around worriedly for what had just happened. And Oliver thought it was funny, I guess, cause he started laughing pretty hard.

"Sorry, guess that wasn't enough warning?" he said.

I blinked sleepily. "Wha…what're you talkin' about?"

"You were halfway sleeping on my shoulder. I moved."

I still had no idea what he meant, but I was honestly too wiped to give a crap. I could blurrily see him through my weary eyes on the opposite end of the bed now as he said he would be. I saw him slip under the covers and his head disappear, so I softly laid my head back down as well.

"Night Ol…ver…" I murmured. "You… love…"

He laughed again. "Goodnight, Miley. I love you, too."

* * *

When I awoke the next morning, I was horribly startled by a very, very loud noise of something scraping against the floor. I mean, I practically _flew_ awake. I looked around, confused as to where I was at first, when I saw the _FRIENDS_ title page still floating around on the TV screen, and I then remembered I had stayed at Oliver's. Looking further down, I noticed him sleeping upside down at the end of the bed as he promised. But how was he still sleeping with that—

_SCREEEEEEEEEEEECH_, went the obnoxious sound again. I covered my ears and darted my eyes around, and that's when I heard people talking and stuff in the spare room.

I grew afraid and ducked back under the covers. I shrunk myself down to be closer to Oliver's half and started to kick him.

"Oliver," I whispered. "Wake up. There's someone in your room."

"No _FRIENDS_," he mumbled amusingly before I kicked him again. "Huh? What? Miley?" His eyes found mine under the covers, and then quite loudly asked, "What the hell are you doing in my room?"

"Shh!" I said, keeping my voice low. "I stayed over last night, remember?"

"Oh yeah. Am I also supposed to know why we're whispering?"

"There's someone in your room," I told him fearfully.

He blinked, and then gave me one of those "are you kidding me?" looks of his that piss me off. "It's probably just my roommate."

"Yeah, but he can't see me! Well, not with _you_! In _here_! He'll think things! Like, what—what if he's hot?!" I whispered back urgently. "I'll have lost _two_ chances with _two_ hot guys in less than twenty-four hours!"

"Seriously, what are you talking about? And what time is—"

"That guy I accidentally met last night when I went to the wrong apartment!"

"Um, you didn't really tell me much about it."

"Later!" I motioned to him and poked an eye out of the blankets to see if anyone was present.

"Miley, this is stupid—"

"Shut UP!" I hushed him again. "I think the coast is clear. I'm going to run on the count of three."

And just as I was about to, a… boy appeared.

He fortunately didn't see me. He just marched himself into the spare room, and I heard him say a couple of quick, inaudible things to someone. He immediately came back out, and that's when I got my first good look at him.

He looked to be about Oliver's height, but his hair was all dirty-ish blonde, and he had… wow, a _gorgeous_ face. Oh my God, was this university _full_ of good looking people or something, and I missed the memo?!

I watched as the boy walked right by me and into the bathroom. My mouth hung.

"What?" Oliver asked.

"Did you _see_ the hot stuff that just walked into your bathroom?"

And right after I said that, the boy walked right out, and this time, my head was not so unnoticed. He fumbled and stared at me in horror. I noticed his eyes were a mixture between blue and green… wow. They were _beautiful_…

Oh, wait, he's just staring. It only took me a second to figure out why.

1. I'm a girl.

2. I'm a girl sleeping with a guy. But not in _that_ way. Except, he wouldn't know that.

3. I'm a gross-looking girl with gross-looking BED HEAD.

I have the WORST LUCK with first impressions with boys here, let me tell you.

He then eyed the end of the bed, so I did, too, to see Oliver's head poking out of the covers. Yeah, this probably looked _horrible_. Even if we were at opposite ends.

The first thing the kid said was, "Okay, either one of you is my roommate, or you're _both_ my roommate, with two heads and extremely long necks."

Oliver threw the covers off of him and stood up quite suddenly, immediately beginning to talk. Well, I'm glad one of us could. "Y-yeah, I'm your roommate! I'm sorry, she's my best friend, and she stayed over last night—" The boy raised his eyebrows, and Oliver went on, "But not like that! And, um, yeah."

It was quiet for a moment, and I was beginning to place the sheets back over my head to save me from further embarrassment when the boy finally replied.

"I'm Jake," he said, which was strange to say out of all the million things he _could've_ remarked.

Oliver made a quiet 'phew!' noise and stuck out a hand. "Nice to meet you, Jake! I'm Oliver!"

I accidentally sneezed. _Crap_. If they forgot I was here, they would remember now.

"Oh," Oliver said as they both stared at me. "And that's Miley."

I gave a small wave. Oh my God, kill me, the boy won't stop staring.

"Hello," I squeaked.

Jake flashed a smile. "Hey." Woooow… he has good teeth.

Nothing seemed to be making its way out of my mouth (humiliatingly enough), so Jake fortunately continued, "Am I scary or something? Earlier this morning, some girl tried to introduce herself to me, and said her name was 'Da.' Now, I know there's some pretty weird names out there, but something tells me Da Girl wasn't telling me the truth."

_It's 'cause you're gorgeous._

"I don't know," is what I really mumbled.

I don't know what happened then because I was too busy trying to think of ways on how to kill myself, but I think Oliver and Jake started talking about something. Whatever they were saying was interrupted by the loud screeching noise that had come back from the dead.

Jake flinched. "Sorry, they're putting my bed in there, and we keep moving it in different positions. And they're not very strong, so they're kinda just sliding the bed across the floor…"

"Why did you bring your own bed anyways?" I blurted, then feeling rude for the tone that I had asked it in.

He looked uncomfortable with answering. "Well, wouldn't you bring your own bed if you could?"

I contemplated this. "I guess so. What, are you rich or something?"

"Er, I don't really like talking about it… but uh, Mom kinda owns… _Miranda's_."

My eyes practically popped out of my head.

"_Miranda's_?" Oliver sounded amazed (as he should be) as I let out my own gasp, pointing to the pink slippers on the floor next to me.

"Those FUZ slippers are from _Miranda's_! She—your mom is the owner? Your mom is Miranda Ryan?!"

"Well, my grandma was Miranda, she's Trisha," Jake explained, looking embarrassed again for some reason.

I really wanted to just bombard him with questions about possibly getting discounts on everything at that store possible, but I knew that would freak him out. But him being rich… that was definitely a huge bonus on the "Could Be Boyfriend Scale". I smiled to myself. He seemed like a keeper already… good looks and money—what more could a girl ask for? The money thing alone would have Dad arranging us to be married tomorrow if he could.

_What if this "Jake" was my prince charming_? I mean, _Miranda's_ had my Cinderella slippers. His grandma owned that place. It sounded like something out of a fairytale!

Jake smiled back at me, and it sort of transformed my heart into a puddle.

"Anyway, Miley, you should probably go," Oliver dully interrupted the moment, thus making me a little miffed.

"What—why?"

"Er, that Lilly girl's probably wondering where you're at."

Since when did he give a crap?

"I highly doubt that, Oliver."

"But you don't know for sure. Go bond with her or something."

I narrowed my eyes at his early morning attitude and hopped myself out of bed, not wanting to hear any more of his griping, despite the fact that I wasn't sure I wanted to leave just yet. I seriously wanted to die being in my pajamas around Jake, but whatever, I think I was too tired to really think about what I was doing anyway. With another small grin to Jake, I stomped myself into the bathroom to gather all of my belongings.

I glanced at my horrible make-up-less, bed headed self in the mirror. Good _God_, why did Jake have to see me like this? I'm such an effing monster. And oh yeah, apparently I have a zit under my nose like Oliver claimed—

Er, no I don't. I don't see a zit anywhere actually. That's… strange. Maybe it cleared up overnight?

Not wanting to over think that situation again, I hurriedly began to walk back out when I collided into Jake, and then blushing at my cursed clumsiness.

"Sorry," we said simultaneously, and then repeated it as we both failed once more at getting out of each other's walking space.

"This is awkward," he said with a chuckle, and I felt extra heat flame my face.

"Lil bit," I admitted.

"It's alright," he told me and finally walked past me. Rushing now I made my dash to the door when I heard Jake call out, "Hey Miley?"

I slowly turned my head, biting my lip. "Hm?"

"See ya around." And with that seductive tone, he _winked _at me, and strode into the bathroom, and I basically died right then and there.

Happily I looked to see Oliver sitting on his bed with a look of pure disgust, and I mouthed an excited, "HE WINKED AT ME!" to him. He wasn't as enthused. He just gave me a pretend excited gesture and smile, looking like a fruit in the process, to which I stuck my tongue out at, and then proceeded to exit the dorm room.

I was probably two steps out in the hallway when I heard a muffled yell of, "BYE MILEY!"

And I yelled, "BYE ASS!" back.

But despite Oliver's childish behavior, I still arrived back at my dorm room with a pretty arrogant smile displayed on my lips.

**

* * *

**

**Now we all know adding Jake to an equation isn't very pretty. But we need a not-so-very-pretty situation. And things will be getting interesting. :D**

**Anyways, I'm off to go running with my best friend, yo. Leave me your thoughts! ...please?**

* * *


	7. the girl with the 'twisted ankle'

**(cowers) Don't hurt me for taking so long to update. I really don't even want to update right NOW because of how much I hate this garbage filler chapter I came up with. Oh well. :) New character who has a huuuge impact on this story is being introduced. Woo-hoo.**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Hannah Montana, the upcoming "I Honestly Love You (No Not You)" episode would totally end with Miley 'secretly' falling for Oliver, and vice versa. Unfortunately, I don't see this coming since the writers are adoring the incestual ship instead. Poo-ey.**

* * *

**HeartWare  
**by Broken Oken

_chapter six: the girl with the 'twisted ankle'_

* * *

I had no idea that a person that loves TV as much as Oliver would ever exist. Hearing such a thing would be like a myth, like, hearing that the bogeyman is real or something. Both ideas are terrifying. The bogeyman one is self-explanatory, but the Oliver one… it's just that he's, like, literally addicted to television. Television is kinda like Oliver's crack. Back in Malibu, he would seriously get down on his knees sometimes and plead to sit down on my living room couch for an hour and "watch some tube" (as he would say). Really, I don't even know why he always begged because there's usually nothing worth watching on most of the time. And he could go "watch some tube" over at his own house, but _no_, he dragged me into all of his stupid shows by making sure he'd always watch them in the comfort of _my_ home instead.

But a person that puts Oliver's love for TV to a severe challenge is no longer a myth to me. This person actually lives at SB University. And, _just my luck_, it's with me.

Lilly Truscott might be in love with television. Like, she really, truly loves it.

You see, Oliver had come over to our dorm later that day to allow me to borrow his TV. At first I thought I had died and gone to some kind of parallel universe because Oliver splitting with a TV is like him splitting with his mustang—illogical and exists only in one's imagination. However, I discovered that I was still somehow in the right dimension being that the only reason Oliver was allowing me to borrow it was because Jake had set up a humungous HD _flat screen_ one or something in their room. (I know, I'm jealous, too.) I was still overjoyed, nonetheless, at my temporary gift, but since I had no idea how to set one up, I forced ze best friend to do it, and Lilly was skipping around the room in ecstasy the entire time.

It was also later on in our dorm that Lilly and I were sitting on each of our beds, bored out of our insane minds. Well, maybe that was just me. Personally _Spongebob Squarepants_ has about the enjoyment level of about negative eight out of a positive ten. But Lilly was probably anything but bored; she was literally entranced by everything that flashed on the screen in front of us. (Even the way unexciting commercials about car insurance and whatnot.) She would sit there, eyes the size of watermelons, hanging on to every word and image the TV would give us.

Truthfully I wasn't even looking at the TV. The real entertainment lied in the face of the girl next to me. I was all smiles, too. I don't believe I've ever seen someone that… _happy_ with the stupid Nickelodeon cartoon playing in front of us.

"You like this show, Lilly?" I asked, though I was pretty sure I already knew the answer.

She nodded furiously, but not at me. Her eyes were still fixated onto the screen. "I never get to watch TV at home, you know."

I considered this. "Oh, right, your parents."

"Yeah, Dad was afraid it would brainwash me into following Satan or something totally psychotic like that."

"Nah, that's only reality TV," I chuckled out before her head quickly spun itself to mine, which put my laughter to an immediate end. I was now feeling kind of afraid from the look she was throwing me.

"But… that's—that's the best _kind_!" she shouted in disbelief.

I chuckled some more, shaking my head as I did so. "You do know it's all scripted, right?"

"So! Andrea and I could watch _Jayy TV_ for days."

I had to blink a few times at the statement, trying to wrap my mind around how such a likable girl like Lilly could waste her time on something as dumb as _Jayy TV_. My mind started recalling the incident a few days ago where I had to endure thirty dreadful minutes in my living room with Oliver and my dad as they practically worshipped the thing.

"You like that stupid prank show, too?" I asked with a frown.

"Wellll, okaaay, it is pretty stupid," Lilly admitted, sounding ashamed, but her grinning lips said the opposite. "It's just that Jay Carlson is _sooo_ cute!"

"Er, I guess," I said shrugging. Jay Carlson's face wasn't unattractive by any means, but I definitely didn't think he was deserving of the title of "sooo cute". I had always thought the guy needed a serious haircut, but who knows. Lilly and I obviously had different tastes in just about everything, so why would it be so surprising that _men_ were also included in that category?

"Andrea and I could stare at him all day when we weren't out on the half pipe."

"Andrea skateboards, too?" I questioned, feeling a little amazed. The name Andrea, for some reason, held connotations to me that screamed _girly_. But that could also be the fact there was a younger Andrea in my high school, who continually dressed in denim mini skirts and red high heels. She kinda resembled a youthful Cameron Diaz, the more I think about it.

"Oh yeah," Lilly gave a deep nod. "She's way better at it than me, too. Could win the X-Games if she put her mind to it. She's a tough girl like that. Knock your teeth out if she wanted to. She was like, a belt or two away from becoming a black belt or something I think."

Er, _whoa_. This chick was definitely _not_ girly. The Cameron Diaz picture in my head now looked a bit rugged and unclean.

"That's crazy," I said, escaped of any other words.

"Yeah, but I love that girl to pieces. I pretty much always went over to her house for as many breaks as I could… kinda because she has the TV, but mostly because my parents belong in the loony bin. I think she hated just sitting there, but, like, you just don't understand until you don't have TV. It's like, like," she appeared to anxiously search her head for an appropriate explanation. "Like, say you've never had ice cream before. Yeah," she saw my horrified expression. "It's _that_ crazy."

"Uhh yeah, I love ice cream." I seemed to space off for a moment before returning to planet earth. "When am I meeting this Andrea anyways?"

"Today!" she exclaimed happily, jumping to her feet. "I told her last night we should all grab some lunch today, and to bring her own roommate. And that reminds me, how was last night with um—god, Owen, was it?" Her teeth clenched. She already knew she was inaccurate.

"Oliver," I corrected for her with a giggle. "And it was fine. His roommate was gorgeous—"

"_You met his roommate?!_" she screeched for some reason.

"Um, yeah." I blinked rapidly, now kinda fearful for my life.

"He _is_ gorgeous! You—you _talked_ to him?!" Lilly was suddenly inches away from my face, looking aghast. I cautiously placed a few more inches between us.

"Um… yes?"

"I couldn't even form an effing _sentence_ when I saw him walk in earlier! Andrea and I went to get breakfast down in the café, and he walked in, looking like a total _baaaabe_, and, like, he saw us, said hey, and I was like, '_Hola amigo_,' which is the biggest embarrassment of my _life_, and then Andrea luckily assessed the situation and introduced herself. I then said 'da' when he asked for my name, which is _so_ not a word, unless you're talking baby language for 'Dad'."

Her story was probably told in the short span of ten seconds, but I still got enough of it to start laughing pretty hard. "You're the 'Da' girl?!"

"Oh my god, he knows me as the Da Girl?" she looked at me, horrified, and as I nodded, laughing still, her expression startlingly broke out into a grin. "HELL YES I'M THE DA GIRL! JAKE KNOWS WHO I AM!"

My laughing continued until my sides hurt. "Oh…my…god… how—how did you know he's Oliver's roommate?"

"Well, he said he was on the fifth floor, and he was rooming with some guy who's name started with an 'O', I mean, I obviously don't know, I was kinda just, like, drooling over him as he spoke. But I figured, it must be Oscar!"

"Oliver!" I corrected again, another laughing fit beginning.

"Right, Oliver, dangit! I'm never going to remember that." She concentrated hard on the ground before looking back up to me in fiery curiosity. "So, like, what did Mr. Gorgeous say to you?"

I told her the story then in full detail, and Lilly listened _verrrry_ attentively, way better than Oliver ever listened I annoyingly realized. Oliver was usually watching something else whenever I tried to tell him anything important, but then again, I sometimes thought he only did it just 'cause he knew it got on my nerves. You know, that boy does a lot of things just to get on my nerves. Like leave half-full cans of soda around my house in weird places like next to our toilets. He could very well drink them (the sodas, I mean), but he decides he'd rather see me freak out about the mess.

Anyways, when I finished talking Lilly was staring at me, completely openmouthed. "He… he winked at you. Oh my gosh, why can't I _be _you! I'm a lost cause. If I ever get a boyfriend, he's going to have to learn how to understand either baby talk or, like, Spanish obviously."

God, Lilly was hilarious. I was so glad to have her as my roommate so far.

But I had no idea that I thought too soon.

"Oh my God, I have a brilliant idea." Lilly's greenish eyes flashed to mine, giving off a mischievous glint.

I looked at her in confusion and slight alarm. "What?"

She smiled at me eagerly. "Before we go out to lunch today, we should totally swing by—um—Ol—your best bud's place."

"Why…?" I frowned a little. "Oh, no, Lilly, please don't tell me you really _do_ think he's hot?"

Her jaw flew, or should I say dropped, to the floor. "Um, _no_. I want to see Jake, hel_lo_! Get him to know me by my _real _name. As much as I like being the Da Girl, I think he deserves to know the real thing. And since you know Jake's roommate personally, we could casually just go in there and say hi, and _bam!_ Be met with instant sexiness!"

"Oliver is not sexy," I blurted.

"No! Jake!" she gave me a weird look.

"Oh right," I said, now confused as to what I was saying anyways.

"So, you up for it? I mean, I need you. Cause if I go over there by myself, there's going to be a sequel to the Da Girl, and then I'll probably have to kill your friend since he might hit on me again without your supervision."

"Probably," I smiled. "And sure, why not… I wouldn't mind taking a gander at that boy again."

* * *

Lilly and I walked to Oliver's room at a ridiculously slow pace. I can actually totally walk faster—let's face it, a tortoise dragging a _grand piano_ could walk faster—it's just that Lilly was being a nervous wreck, so we had to take slow steps to calm her. She was claiming to me that if she walked any quicker, she might increase her heart rate too fast and cause her to go into a coma. It was strange, and I didn't really think it made sense, but I didn't need my roommate to go into a coma anytime soon and leave me all by my lonesome until I get a weird new roommate who likes voodoo _and_ sports or something terrifying like that, so I just forced myself to walk slower.

After a long, long time, we had finally made it to the _611_ door, and Lilly was clutching a death grip onto my arm. I whispered, "Relax, it's just a boy," as I knocked.

"_Just a boy?!"_ she exclaimed horribly loudly, before thankfully lowering it, "I mean, just a boy? He's freaking hott!"

There was no time for me to respond for the door had suddenly burst open… but it wasn't the 'freaking hott' Jake Ryan.

At first Oliver appeared to see only me, but then promptly took in Lilly as well… and, of course, with a smirk. _Who said he didn't need my supervision to hit on her._

"Oh, couldn't stay away from me, eh?" he told her with a wink. I couldn't help but compare it to Jake's wink to me the previous night. Oliver's looked so unnatural I almost wanted to laugh. But I didn't as Lilly then harshly glared at him before directing her narrowed eyes at me as if to push me faster along in our plan.

"No time for your failed attempts at flirting," I answered for her, and his eyelids open and closed in shock. I glanced searchingly over his left shoulder. "Where's Jake?"

Within a millisecond Oliver was frowning. "He's not here…"

And very suddenly, and almost randomly. I heard Lilly gasp, "Andy?"

My mind instantly went into a frenzy. Oh, dear god, not _another_ boy! Worriedly I looked to see Lilly gaping at something I must've missed behind Oliver. Blinking, I got to my tiptoes to peer more directly behind him to notice that there wasn't any other boy in the room…

…but a _girl_ instead. Who was currently situated on Oliver's bed.

_Uhhh?_

Now this stunned me for a multitude of reasons. For one, Oliver talking to a girl I don't know has _never_ happened before. All of his past girlfriends never would have even occurred had I not introduced him to them. And number two—well, a girl was on _his bed_! _Already?!_ Who was she, and what was she doing here?

"Lilly!" the mystery girl shouted happily, but not making any effort to stand. "What are you doing here?"

_What are _we_ doing here? She has this all wrong…_

"I should ask you the same question," Lilly told her in an amused tone, walking past Oliver and I and further then into the room. I stood there dumbstruck at the scene presented before me, and gave Oliver a questioning look, but found he wasn't much help either—he wasn't looking at me at all, but at the peculiar girl, too.

"Oh, I was on a run outside, and I tripped and fell. Kinda twisted my ankle." She stared at her foot for a very brief moment before grinning over to us—er, make that _just Oliver_. "And this kind gentlemen here saw me and helped me up by carrying me here to aid me."

"I didn't know you were a doctor," I said dryly to Oliver before realizing he still wasn't even paying attention to me.

"Yeah, she took a nasty fall," he explained, walking over to her, but I didn't follow yet. I was still bewildered at this whole thing. Was this some kind of joke? Well, the next thing he said almost made me believe it had to be one—

"So I offered her a lift on the Ollie Trolley."

If I had water or some other kind of beverage in my mouth, it all would've came flying out in spit form at that very second.

"_Ollie Trolley_? You aren't _serious_—"

The girl on his bed interrupted me, however, by laughing.

Seriously, I'm _not_ joking. She was _laughing_ at his stupid joke. Even more unbelievable was that my eyes took minds of their owns and slightly narrowed themselves like I was seriously angry that she was laughing. Like, I wasn't _just _annoyed, but _angry_ about it for some reason. The girl must not be very smart to be all laughing at Oliver's unfunny jokes… and I don't get along with dumb blondes. Okay, so she was _actually_ brunette like myself, but whatever…

…_In fact_, she also shared the same _curls_ as myself. Currently her hair was pulled halfway up into a messy teardrop ponytail, and some of her wavy side bangs were sprawled out on the left side of her forehead. Her eyes were brown, but, like, _big_… in the pretty kind of way you know? Giant eyelashes to frame them… her nose pierced… _full_ pink lips…

Quite frankly, her unique beauty startled me. I could tell she wasn't the prettiest girl around—Lilly I found way prettier, and maybe even myself, but there was something different about her that I couldn't exactly pinpoint… something that would easily cause her to be so alluring to the opposite sex. She didn't even have much make-up on at the moment—maybe some brown mascara and maybe some foundation, but that's about it. And, not to mention, she was wearing Capri sweatpants, and just a plain red t-shirt.

You know, by this point I was entirely positive this school was made for models. I feel like Oliver and I stick out like sore thumbs so far. I mean, Oliver isn't bad looking by any means, but if you stood him next to Jake or Richie, there'd be no contest. Except, I think I like Oliver's hair the best. And his eyes… which I'll _never_ admit to liking now since I've referred to them as being 'poop-colored' since the fourth grade or something.

Anyways, speaking of Oliver and his poop-colored eyes, they were watching her laugh. And he had a giant smile plastered on his face.

Oh, I see. He… _likes_ this girl.

"Miley, this is Andrea!" Lilly announced cheerfully. "And Andrea, this is Miley, my roommate!"

Wait, wait, wait… _What??_

_This_ was Andrea? The girl who can do flips around Tony Hawk? The very same girl who almost acquired a _black belt_?! But… she was so _tiny_. And petite. And uniquely pretty. The image in my head did not match up correctly.

"Nice to meetcha, Miley," Andrea said with a perfectly white, straight smile, outstretching a manicured hand.

I obliged, shaking it carefully as I tried to figure out yet again if this whole thing really was some kind of joke.

"You, too," I spoke awkwardly.

I then about jumped half a mile when I felt someone's arm drape across my shoulders. I snapped my head to the side—Oliver?

"Miley's actually my best friend," he said to her. Well, nice to know he _has_ seen me standing here all this time after all. "Weird little world, ain't it?"

"Definitely." She nodded, staring at him with a grin. I looked to see Oliver with a matching one.

_Wait. _Again.

This Andrea chick was actually _interested_ in Oliver? _What?_ But—that never happens when they're actually _attractive!_ All of Oliver's girlfriends have, of course, not been ugly, but none of them would ever match up to Andrea. She's like, gorgeous. Okay, so she _must _be stupid to be wasting her time on him! Or this seriously is a joke!

"How come you aren't hitting on her, too?" Lilly abruptly quipped, and somehow the two tore their eyes away from each other long enough to look at her.

And Oliver chuckled. "Are you inferring I hit on you?"

"Inferring?" Lilly went a bit cross-eyed. "Um, yes, I am."

"Oh. Well—I didn't need to hit on her." He shrugged carelessly and re-added a grin to his expression. "My studliness already blew her away."

Lilly made gagging noises, and I was really tempted to just join her, but instead I found myself folding my arms with a raised eyebrow. There was something weirdly _wrong_ with this picture. I just couldn't quite put my finger on it… and then, as if on cue, it happened.

Andrea got to her feet. _What happened to that "twisted ankle" of hers?_

"Well, I think I'm okay now," came her awful justification. "Thanks, Oliver, for helping me out." She walked over to him, and he seemed to tense, but smile at the same time.

_What the hell? Why am I getting déjà vu?_

"No problem, ma'am," she giggled at the name—_ew?_—, "Always happy to sweep a lady right off of her feet."

Her giggling increased, and I really wanted to chop her head off for some reason to make it stop. God, she might be pretty, but she's kind of annoying. I didn't know anyone who laughed this much around Oliver. He's just not _that_ funny.

"Okay, I hope to see you around," she told him. He appeared so ecstatic at her words, like no one had ever said them to him before. What. The. _Hell._

"Right back atcha."

And they proceeded to gaze at each other for about five hundred years until I very noisily cleared my throat, and Andrea quickly spun to face us again. "Oh, bye you guys! It was nice to meet you, Miley. I'll see you guys at lunch?"

I barely nodded and Lilly chirped a, "Sure thing! Byeee!"

She finally disappeared with one final glance back at Oliver. God. He isn't _that_ cute… wait, what?

Oliver watched her leave probably even twenty seconds after her departure. This was just ridiculous. He'd only known her a _day_ for Pete's sake! Angrily I snapped my fingers in front of his dopey-smiling face. "Yo," I said, putting the irritation in my voice in case he hadn't picked up on it.

He came back to reality with an even brighter smile—though, it was totally directed at Lilly. Couldn't expect him to smile at me at the moment, but c'_mon_.

"Your best friend _is_ hot," is what he said.

Lilly's mouth dropped, and she briskly hit him on the arm. "Please, for the good of humankind, _stay_ away from her."

"Oh, no problem, Lilly," he said with another terrible 'wink'. "But I can't guarantee she'll stay away from _me_."

_Oh, you have got to be kidding me, Oliver. Stop waggling your eyebrows._

"She will once I talk to her, _Ballet Boy_," Lilly retorted. He glared.

"You wouldn't."

"I would."

I was getting even more annoyed than I already was listening to all of this, so finally I was just kinda like, "Her ankle looked fine to me."

They both looked at me at the same time, then back at each other.

"That's cause I cured it," Oliver remarked casually.

"Or maybe it was all just a lie," I said, surprising myself with the hostility in my voice.

"_Weeeelll_," Lilly spoke quietly for some reason, and I faced her with suspicious brows. "Andrea does know how to pull off things to get guys to notice her…"

"Wait a minute." I blinked and slightly shifted my chin downwards. "You mean—she must've thought Oliver was actually—gag me here—_hot_, so she _faked _the ankle thing to get him _over to her_?"

I felt like throwing up at the thought.

"_Whoa_," Oliver said, dazed. "A girl that wanted _me_ first? Me likey."

"Me no comprende," I said, shaking my head, and causing Lilly to giggle a little. "Have you seen yourself?"

"Oh, Miley." Oliver heaved another arm around my neck, smirking, and I shrugged him off of me in further aggravation. "You know I don't speak Spanish."

* * *

I wasn't sure about meeting Andrea for lunch. Actually I was pretty sure of one thing—and that was that I _didn'_t want to meet Andrea for lunch. At all. The girl gave me an uncomfortable feeling… like I had to be in competition with her or something because we looked sorta similar. I don't know. I was just really not looking forward to it. But Jake was seriously nowhere to be found—_really_ nowhere, Lilly made us search the whole damn campus—so Lilly had to come up with the "brilliant idea" of going to lunch a little earlier than planned.

I decided to really dress myself up for some reason. Don't ask me why. Something to do with that competitive feeling, I guess. I wore a knee-length floral purple skirt, black flip-flops (though I had heels on for about ten minutes, then thought that it was too much), and a black and bright violet tank top. I made sure my hair was down, and wavy more than it was curly—Oliver always told me that a lot of guys preferred wavy hair to straight _or_ curls—and that my lip gloss was on just the right amount.

Lilly was a little baffled by my behavior as well. "Miley, this isn't a date," she said, watching me indulge myself with make-up in the bathroom.

"I know."

Her head cocked itself to one side. "Oh, great, do you have the hots for Andrea, too?"

I gaped at her, holding my mascara tube threateningly. "Yeah, Lilly, I'm a lesbian, didn't I tell you?" I added a roll of the eyes just in case she didn't pick up on the sarcasm.

"Hey, nothing wrong with that." She thought for a moment before breaking out into a silly grin. "When I was little, when I first heard the word 'lesbian', I thought it was a religion, no joke. So I asked my parents if I could be one, and basically, they freaked the eff out and had me praying in the pews at church for like, two hours straight."

I started laughing so hard that I almost poked myself in the eye with my eyeliner. "Oh my God, seriously? A religion?"

"Seriously. I mean, it kinda does sound like one, you know." I giggled, and she shook her head, "No, seriously, you don't understand. My house is like living under a rock. Sometimes I think I'm adopted 'cause like, my parents would've had to f—er, _you know_ to have me. And even if they are married, the way they act… it's like they believe you shouldn't _enjoy_ sex."

I looked at her from the corner of my eye. "…have you…?"

Her eyes widened and a giant blush swept across her entire face. "Oh, _no_! No! My parents would literally shove me into a convent." I cracked a grin, and she kind of did, too. "What about you?"

"Nope. But… other things have happened," I found myself admitting, surprising myself a second time that day.

"You mean, like… _pre_ things," Lilly emphasized, eyebrows rising.

This time it was I who was blushing. "Kinda. Never farther than second base."

I don't like lying to anyone, but I felt like I didn't know Lilly well enough to let her in on the real deal. You see, I had only had two boyfriends during high school. My first was during my freshman year of school, Kevin Cohmes, and that only lasted three months. We had never really done anything except heavy making out for like, ten or fifteen minutes at a time. I think we were both too scared to try anything else. Probably why we never worked.

Then there was my other boyfriend during Junior year… Heath Prowel. That lasted a whole effing seven months. Which is hard to believe when I think about him and his asshole-istic ways.

We… _did_ things. I wasn't good at any of it. I don't think so, anyways. He never really gave me encouragement.

But that's okay, because I'm pretty positive he had no idea what he was doing either. None of what he did felt good to me at all.

We broke up because he wanted to have sex, and I said no. He didn't really try forcing me into it or anything, but he would always try to _persuade_ me into it, so I got tired of having the same conversation over and over again, so I was like, "Okay, screw this," and dumped him. Good thing, too, because Oliver said if I 'd lost my virginity to Heath, he'd probably grab a machete and "choke the mother fucking son of a bitch with it".

Anyways, back to the present… you know, where I have just lied to Lilly in saying that I've only gotten to second base with a guy.

"Oooohh…" Lilly nodded and faintly squinted her eyes. "Omar, right?"

"…_Omar_?" I repeated in confusion, and she stared on at me before realization shook in. "Oh my God, you mean OLIVER?!"

"Well, yeah." AND SHE SHRUGGED LIKE THIS WAS NO BIG DEAL.

"Oh my God, _NO_! Uh uh! Ack!" I shook my head and brought out my tongue to rid my brain of the images now invading it. Somehow I was picturing Oliver trying to sneak his hand up my shirt, and it was way too awkward to even begin to believe that I was even _thinking_ about it—my cheeks were even starting to feel like they were pinking. And then I started thinking about the times where it looked like he had almost kissed me. Oh my _God!_

"So you guys have never done _anything_?" The surprise in Lilly's voice was confusing.

"_Never_," I stressed.

"Wow." She sat there for another moment in silence. "At least that will make Andrea happy."

I started putting all my make-up back into their proper cases. "…so Andrea _does_ like him?"

"She faked a twisted ankle," she clarified.

I frowned. "…she won't hurt him, right?"

"Nah," Lilly looked the other direction towards the door. "Anyway, are you almost done?"

"Yeah, I'm finished, let's go already." I wasn't certain about why I sounded so hostile as I said that, but I think just the subject of Andrea was pissing me off. I don't even know the girl either. I'm being so unfair right now it's ridiculous!

Softly shaking my head to myself as I opened the door to leave, I suddenly jumped backwards. There was someone already standing in the doorframe, holding a bouquet of yellow flowers in the way of his face.

Lilly screamed. So I did, too.

Aaand the boy followed suit.

And somehow I _recognized_ the scream's owner.

"…_Jake_?" I questioned, completely astonished.

He and Lilly stopped screaming simultaneously, and the flowers were removed from his face—and _yes_, there was his _gorgeous_, almost guilty smile.

"Er, hi, Miley… you know, if you're, uh, scared of sunflowers, I'm sorry, I'll take them back, I just—I wanted to see what you were doing later tonight?"

And Lilly screamed again.

* * *

**Andrea and Jake. We hate them both right now, riiight? xD**

**Anyways, comments or questions or anything you wanna say... that Review button is the way to go. ;)**


	8. of dates, text messages, & total b'tches

**Yay! I'm finally updating… sorry it took so long. I had a death in the family, so things have been really stressful and depressing around here, and I began to neglect writing all together 'cause I was too sad all the time, blah.**

**But now I'm back, I hope. So, enjoooyyyy!**

**Oh yeah, and I believe someone asked about Jackson's appearance in this story, and all I can say about that is he won't be here 'til waaaay later… but his part is very crucial. No worries! I love Jackson.**

**Disclaimer: Hannah Montana technically doesn't even exist in this story. So HA! However, I don't own Miley Stewart, Lilly Truscott, or Oliver Oken. I wouldn't mind owning an Oliver, though…**

* * *

**HeartWare**  
by Broken Oken

_chapter seven: of dates, text messages, and total b*tches_

* * *

Lilly's high-pitched squeal is enough to damage anyone's eardrums, so I tried to remain unaffected as she broke mine anyway. During her minor—okay, _major_ freak-fest, Jake had meanwhile practically lost his balance with the sunflower bouquet, so I had to jump forward to help him catch it. He smiled his gratitude, and as if I hadn't been reduced to a gooey puddle already, I melted like a Popsicle in the middle of the Sahara Desert.

"Sorry about that," he muttered as he briefly looked me over, to which I realized with some proud cheerfulness that this time I was not in my FUZ slippers, but in a nice, form-fitting _cute_ outfit that I would have loved to be caught in the _first_ time we had met.

"Ha, it's alright," I said timidly. I removed my hands from the bouquet as he took it back, throwing me a constricted, alien expression as he did so. Well, Lilly apparently didn't find his face so confusing because she thrust her arms out wildly to remove the giant bouquet from him as if the flowers were actually meant for _her _instead.

"Yes! We'll—I mean, _she'll_ be taking these! I'll just go back into the room—for like, five minutes. Or something. Yes. Um, bye."

And the blonde girl did just as she said, harshly slamming the door behind her.

_Oh_. She wanted to leave me _alone_ with Jake. I should probably feel more appreciative than I actually do.

Somewhat biting my lip, I couldn't help but notice that Jake was sort of shuffling his feet around. Without the sunflowers, he probably had nothing in his arms to concentrate his nerves into… aw, wait, he was _nervous?!_ To talk to little old _me?!_

"So, um, are—are you doing anything tonight?"

Briefly his inquiry left me picturing myself asking Oliver the same question for some reason, and his revolting reply of, "_Only you, baby_," before I would smack him in the nose.

Smiling at the image, I answered, "Nope."

A few seconds of uncomfortable silence passed before he opened his mouth again to ask gently, "Well, then do you want to go somewhere tonight…with…me?"

"YES!" I shouted, and his eyes bugged in a perplexed fashion. "I mean, sure."

"Okay… great." His grin was reminiscent of the Cheshire cat. "I'll pick you up here at like, seven-ish?"

"Seven-ish," I repeated in a merry state of bemusement.

"Okay, see ya, uh, then?" Awkwardly he walked away, and I called out a soft "see ya," myself back to him, and then swiftly turned myself back to the door. The big and bright smile on my face did not actually disappear until I very strangely enough, found myself wrestling with the doorknob—okay, Lilly _would_ lock it.

"LILLY!" I yelled.

"Who is it?"

_She wasn't _serious… "Um, Miley."

"Oh, right! AH! COME IN!"

_She incredibly was. _Hastily I tried the knob a second time to fail again. "Unlock the door, please?"

"…It's locked?"

Irritated, I sighed against the door. "_Yes_."

"Oh, right, my bad."

A few seconds later the door blasted open, and Lilly was staring at me with a sickeningly happy grin. Any frustration I felt towards her during the previous few seconds seemed to evaporate because I was then trying to keep myself from laughing. Trying to sound casual I asked, "What?"

"YOU ARE TOTALLY GOING ON A DATE WITH A HOT TAMALE!" she squealed.

"A 'hot tamale'?" I laughed out, and she nodded eagerly.

"YES! A hot tamale! Jake Ryan is a _total_ hot tamale! And he gave you sunflowers! Like, how cute is that! Really! Boys usually give you roses, right?! But awww, he gave you _sunflowers_!"

"I know!" I couldn't help but squeak in a nauseatingly way-too-girly of a giggle myself. "Sunflowers are my favorite, too! It's like we already know each other!"

Lilly was practically bouncing on her heels as I told her this, and I kind of oddly felt myself wanting to join her in the action, which wasn't like me at _all_ when it came to boys. I mean, I'd always _felt_ the excitement, but never really shown it; I was not used to having someone interpret a situation the same way I did. Hanging out with Oliver all the time almost made me believe that I was the only one who found things romantic or whatever. Boys' opinions on things are usually at least seventy-five percent of the time different than we girls'. Not to mention, it'd probably be really awkward for me to start doing jumping jacks in front of Oliver if some guy asked me out. Despite that he does way worse in front of me, I'd still probably find myself feeling horribly embarrassed.

"Oh my gosh!" Lilly was exclaiming. "You haven't even been on the date, and I can tell you guys are gonna be soul mates. Wow. And he's so _rich_, too! And—"

I cut her off briskly, blushing, "I don't know if we're _soul mates_, Lilly—"

"I had originally thought Ballet Boy was your soul mate, you know."

I stared after her abruptly stated opinion. "Oliver my _soul mate_? Ha, yeah, you definitely had that wrong."

"I don't know. Best friends make the best lovers." She cocked her head to the left side, running her fingers through her long blonde hair thoughtfully.

"Right. If Oliver ever tried anything with me, he'd probably fart and ruin the moment."

Lilly laughed hysterically at this, so I did, too. It was nice to be a friend of the same sex for once. I mean, I'd call us friends kinda by now at least.

Anyways, Lilly then suddenly realized that we were late to our lunch meeting with Andrea, thus kind of putting a damper on my good mood. I wanted to grumble some complaints as we began our walk down to the café, but found it pretty hard as Lilly kept reminding me how jealous of me she was gonna be come later tonight.

All in all, college life is pretty all right so far.

* * *

Okay, college life is pretty horrible so far.

Well… not _horrible_, but I knew that not everything would be perfect, I just didn't think I'd find it in the girl currently sitting across from me at this table.

Andrea Madison is a piece of work. The girl may come off as being completely flawless, but she has some issues. For instance, she ordered a salad for lunch. _A SALAD, that's it!_ There is something very wrong with this chick. She actually wants to eat healthy? PSHHHH.

…._Okay_, so maybe that's just me being a wee bit jealous of the fact that I can't just order a salad. I ended up ordering a cheeseburger, some curly fries, a coke, and a salad. I'm realizing with a heavy heart (no pun intended) that Dad's probably right about the whole Freshman Fifteen theory…

But there are other problems with Andrea. An example? When Lilly and I first arrived, she practically ran to us and enveloped Lilly in such a large hug that I kinda thought maybe Lilly would suffer rib damage afterwards. And then she glanced at me, _said nothing_, and guided us over to the table where her own roommate was residing.

This made me very angry. _At least _gree_t me for Pete's sake._ _Especially if you plan on dating my freaking best friend, you bitch._

And you know, that thought stunned me. I usually don't use that word because I find it very offensive to women. But this Andrea was making me _think_ the mean thing anyways so I knew she couldn't be too good of a person.

We sat down, and I continued to analyze her with my eyes. She was wearing a plain white tank top with ridiculously short yellow shorts. Hmmm… there I go again with the mean thoughts…

"This is Claudia," Andrea spoke up, pointing to the scrawny looking girl with dirty blonde hair next to her. Claudia gave a shy wave, obviously a little more introverted than Ice Princess next to her.

"I'm Lilly!" Lilly piped, and looked to me with a giant grin. "And this is Miley."

"Yeeep," I said uneasily. "Hello."

Andrea seemed to raise a brow at me for some reason before quickly snapping her face down to the small menu set down in front of her. I didn't like the way she was looking at me… not _one_ bit… like, she made me feel like I should be doing something wrong to be so deserving of such looks. But I knew I wasn't. I was just sitting there next to Lilly as she excitedly began to chat about "how cool college is so far", and me, absorbing myself awkwardly into my hands as I fiddled them around until eventually deciding to pull out my cell phone in boredom.

_One New Text Message._

_Fr: Oliver_

Smiling at the comfort I instantly felt, I flipped open the screen.

"_whats up dorkchop_!"

I giggled slightly and began to text back, "_n2m nerd. :) u?"_

At that moment I realized our table had gone quiet, and lifting my eyes, I noted Andrea looking at me with disdain (what the hell?), Claudia with curiosity, and Lilly with… eagerness, as expected.

"Oh my gosh, did Jake just text you or something?!" Lilly peeped.

"Jake?" I repeated, blinking. "He doesn't even ha—"

"Jake totally asked Miley out before we came here!" Lilly interruptedly explained to Andrea and Claudia. "Isn't she lucky?"

While Claudia smiled her agreement, Andrea made a strange huffing noise before saying, "Jake Ryan asked you out?" It was the first thing she had actually said to me since Lilly and I had gotten there, and I wasn't completely sure what to make of the tone she was using. It sounded like she was intrigued but bored at the same time.

I nodded. "Yeah, I think we're going to dinner or something."

"Hmm," Andrea looked at me confusedly. "Oliver wanted to take me to dinner tonight, too."

I was a little more than dismayed that Oliver was really actually interested in this girl, but I still had to give her a real chance. Trying to keep a totally non-judgmental tone, I asked, "Really?"

She nodded, smiling at last. "Yeah, but I think we should get to know each other first before I go anywhere alone with him. So I think I'll just hang out with him tonight on campus. It's kinda dumb to date someone you've only known for like, a day."

The way she said it stunned me. It was as if she was trying to _insul_t me. My eyes began to narrow, and she blinked, going on quickly with, "No offense. Just not how I am."

I almost said something nasty in return when I felt my hand vibrating. Oh. Oliver had texted back.

_"just thinking about u naked. u know, the usual."_

I laughed loudly at his immaturity, and Lilly smiled hugely at the corner of my eye. "Oh my gosh, what did he say!" she gushed.

"Huh?"

"Jake!"

I blinked again. "That wasn't Jake."

"Oh, you can tell us!"

"No, really, that wasn't him."

"Pshhh, that laugh gave away everything!" _Laugh? _"You looked so happpyyy!"I didn't like what she was trying to imply, so my cheeks slightly burned since she obviously had no idea who had actually texted me. "Er, for real, Lilly, that _wasn'_t Jake. Jake doesn't even have my numb—"

Before I could even finish, Lilly had snatched the cell phone from my hand and quickly drew her eyes to its screen. Already feeling the embarrassment from what she was about to read, I promptly reached out to try and take it back, but it was too late—she had swung her body opposite from me, giggling like a maniac.

She didn't seem to bother reading just in her head, but humiliatingly enough, _out loud_, "From Oliver, _Just thinking about you naked_—wait, OLIVER?!"

Some spit of Andrea's iced tea came flying into my face as the sentence left Lilly's mouth. My cheeks burned redder, and I easily grabbed the phone away from Lilly as she was still frozen in puzzlement.

It got _realllly_ quiet after that. I mean, so quiet that the mute Claudia must've even found it uncomfortable since _she_ was the first one who decided to speak.

"Um, isn't Oliver the guy _you_ like, Andrea?"

Andrea remained speechless, staring at me with such a… _strange_ expression. Claudia looked worriedly to Lilly and then at me, her eyes searching for answers.

Immediately I started forcing myself to breathe again, knowing that my silence was probably giving off some false assumptions.

"Um, I asked Oliver was Jake was doing, you see, since they're roommates, and he was joking and said he was thinking about me naked."

I wonder to this day why I had to lie.

They all gawked at me for a little bit. I couldn't blame them if they didn't believe me, but part of me was hoping they would anyways. Despite my newfound hatred towards Andrea, I didn't want to spoil things between her and Oliver… _yet_. Oliver seemed pretty pleased with the idea of her, and although she didn't seem to be quite as vocal about him, I had a feeling she was at _the very least_ attracted to him as well.

Suddenly Lilly started giggling. "Oh my gosh, Jake probably _is_ thinking about you naked."

We all simply looked at her. I really wanted to tell her "thank you," but that would've been a strange thing to say on my part, so I just let out a strained giggle as well.

"I, uh, hope not."

"No, he probably is, Miley." I turned to Andrea, surprised that she seemed to have believed my little lie as well. "All guys want only one thing. And he might try to get it from you tonight."

Claudia looked a little uncomfortable—well, more so than she did the whole time she had been sitting there anyways. "Um, not _all_ guys are like that."

"Oh, no, they all are, believe me," Andrea said with a firm nod. "Boys use their penises to think instead of their brains and hearts."

Lilly blinked a few puzzled times. "So, like, do you think Oliver wants to…?"

My eyes bulged, and before I could cover my ears, I heard Andrea reply, "Oh, most likely. He was practically _undressing_ me with his eyes when he first met me—"

"Umm, okay, can we not talk about this?" I asked quickly, biting my lip. "It's kinda weird to hear you guys, um, talking about my best friend like this…"

"Well, you have to agree, right?" Andrea asked me, but didn't give me a chance to rebut for she at once posed another question, "Is he good?"

"Good?" I tilted my head.

"In bed."

My eyes somehow felt even bigger, and for a second I thought maybe she was joking, but her calm posture told me otherwise.

"_How_—how would I know?"

Andrea exchanged a strange glance with Lilly before turning back to me. "You haven't slept with him?"

I choked, cheeks burning some more. Even Claudia looked a bit intrigued at this bit of information.

"Oh my God, NO!"

"Seriously?"

What was so hard to believe about Oliver and I _not_ DOING EACH OTHER?!?

"Seriously! Nothing! We're just friends!" I practically yelled at her, drawing attention from other people around us as well. "Oliver and I do not see each other in that way. We barely even talk about… uh, _that_, or even relationships at all."

"So you haven't even heard if he's good?"

The way she was just casually interrogating me about his sexual personality made me want to slap her. She was asking such forward questions about someone she barely knew, and it made me pretty upset, and she was almost acting like… like she wanted to… er… _do_ him. ON THE FIRST DATE.

"No. I haven't," I stated coldly, taking a noisy sip of my water.

"Hmm." Andrea's serious face took on a silly grin. "I wonder how big he is."

"OH MY GOD, I'M GOING TO THE BATHROOM."

And so that's what I did.

And when I came back, there was thankfully no more conversations about Oliver, how big Oliver's penis is (seriously, now they sort of have me wondering, _ew_), Jake, boys, any other boys' penises, or even sex for the next hour and a half.

I had almost forgotten all about everything until a sudden vibration in my hand.

_One New Text Message._

_Fr: Oliver_

"_hey hope u didnt take that seriously cuz u didnt reply. i was only jk. btw, tell andrea i say hey :)"_

I glared at the screen and looked up at Andrea, who was busily engrossed in telling a story about _this one time she went to the movies with a guy who tried feeling her up not even five minutes into the previews_…

"_she says hi."_

Yeah. I don't think I like Andrea Madison so far.

* * *

In my mind, the perfect first date is easily accomplishable, but for some reason, some boys are inclined to stray away from your idea of that perfect first date, and make it—somehow—even better than perfect. Like an adjective so fantastic that it was used only by God Himself.

Well, I can tell you that God has just looked upon the evening's events and used this incredible unknown adjective. This night has definitely been (insert word here).

Jake Ryan knows how to treat a lady.

Well, either that, or I've just never been out with someone who actually treats me like a person more than a plaything. Well, except Oliver, of course. He kind of treats me meanly, but it's in a joking kind of way most of the time, you know? I don't feel like a lady around him. More like a female punching bag, ha ha ha.

But yes, Jake Ryan is for real amazing.

I had no idea what to wear, but Lilly informed me that I had to go "casual but cute" because it was only a first date. I argued with her, saying that I'd like to wear my red dress, but she said that it'd look too whorish, so then she kind of won 'cause I'd rather _not_ look like that, and I ended up with a jean skirt and a screen-tee. Lilly said that was much better.

Go figure that Jake shoes up to my dorm room all dressed up with a tie and everything.

As I reached for my purse on the way out, Lilly didn't waste time on telling me that Jake looked totally screwable in her virgin eyes. I wanted to laugh _soo_ hard, but I chose to be mature for once and faced Jake with a merely pleasant smile.

To my delight, Jake ended up taking us to a drive-in movie theatre about twenty minutes down the road. I would've squealed and hopped up and down if he hadn't been watching me so intently all-night.

At first I was kinda nervous with the way he was looking at me. I kept thinking about what Andrea had said earlier—_that all guys only want one thing in college_. But the thought eventually wore off once I started enjoying my time with Jake more than analyzing it, and he didn't try touching me _once_ during the entire movie.

What amazed me more was that he didn't go park somewhere secluded like I was dreading he would. I mean, the boy's _gorgeous_, but I don't like the idea of, _ahem_, "parking" with anyone. It sounds like such a slutty thing to do, and it only doesn't look bad when it's presented in the movies, which we all know are _not_ real.

I laughed a lot. That's a pretty amazing sign since my ex's were both sticks in the mud. Or would that be stick-in-the-mud's? I don't know, but Jake is pretty funny in a different kind of way. Not like Oliver funny where you wanna punch him and laugh at the same time, but in the, "_I'm charming, you're gonna giggle a lot with me_," kinda funny, you know? I pretty much adored everything he was saying.

He didn't overdo the compliments either. That was nice. I never know what to do with compliments. I kinda just throw them away or something… Oliver says I respond better to insults. It's true I guess. Once at a sophomore year dance in high school Oliver said my hair looked pretty, and I glared and said all snobby-like, "Are you serious?! It only took me like fifteen minutes!" so he went, "Well, that makes sense. I was just kidding," and then I attacked him with my freshly manicured nails. True story.

Anyways, on the way home I noticed Jake had sneakily put an arm around the top of my chair. It wasn't creepy, but my heart started thudding really hard. It was a definite move, but subtle enough not to spark anything bigger than maybe a kiss on the cheek. It definitely got a smile on my face.

Jake and I talked about a lot of things during this date. Very _random_ things. Like, for instance, mustard. Not kidding. Not just the substance, but the word itself. Really weird first date conversation I think. Like, I hate mustard. And Jake was like, "Well, the word 'musty' comes to mind, so I can't blame ya."

"And 'terd' kinda," I said immediately, then blushed, as that was more like something I was comfortable only saying around Oliver.

He still chuckled, though, so I think I was still okay. Still unsure, however. A chuckle does not tell me much except he was amused by _something_. Oliver would be like, "You're a terd for saying that," which is _a lot_ better than a chuckle 'cause at least he's joking back and making me feel like I'm not really a terd after all.

At the end of the date, Jake walked me to my dorm room. I was afraid that Lilly would have her ear to the door to listen to anything he might then tell me, but those thoughts became interrupted when Jake smiled at me. It sounds so cheesy, but I'm pretty sure he has the most perfectly curved lips I've ever seen, therefore making me just lose all focus all together.

"I had a great time tonight, Miley."

My heart dissolved, or maybe it was my stomach, I don't know. "Me too."

"We should do something like this again sometime."

"Yes," I replied a little too quickly, so my face began to burn until that damn smile of his captured me again.

"Well, you have a good night."

"You too."

We stood there staring at each other. I was wondering (and hoping, of course) if he'd ever lean in, when he finally just asked, "Can I kiss you?"

The fact that he asked permission warmed me all over. I'd never been asked that before.

But what I said makes me wanna smack myself. I said, "Please," like a desperate little girl or something. _So pathetic_.

But it still got him to put a hand to my cheek and kiss me.

HELLZ TO THE YES.

It was probably the most amazing first kiss I've ever experienced with a guy. He wasn't trying to fight his tongue past my teeth, and it was short, but sweet. I had no idea a guy could kiss me so gently. But I loved it. Every second of it—which was only four, by the way.

Again we were just looking at each other, and very shyly he pulled out his cell phone.

"So… I don't believe I have your number," he stated and blinked, and I let out a very merry, high-pitched giggle I've never heard in my whole life. (Kinda scary really.)

After I recovered from _that _humiliation, I answered him, and he proceeded to give me his, with a joking comment of, "You better not call me at five in the morning, ya hear?"  
I thought he was gonna kiss me again, but sadly enough he took another step backwards with a giant shit-eating grin on his face. "Goodnight, Miley."

"'Night, Jake."

And with a few more steps backward, he finally disappeared.

I wanted to fall to my knees in ecstasy, but I remained standing anyway. In fact, my excitement even made me want to freaking skip for crying out loud, but I withheld the crazy emotion as I usually do and settled for a long and happy sigh. I really _am_ pathetic, but who cares.

So yes, basically I was so excited about the turnout of my date that I decided I had to tell Oliver immediately. He would be floored, I thought, that for _onc_e in my life, a guy wasn't just trying to get a feel-sky, but actually trying to _earn my respect_ first.

However, I realized that thought had to be quickly derailed as I remembered that Jake and Oliver freaking lived together. _Wonderful_. And how awkward. I couldn't just run over there and be like, "Oh, Oliver! I LOVE JAKE! Oh, hi, Jake!" Yeah, talk about a definite "_never gonna happen_".

So then I figured I'd settle for telling Lilly. She thought Jake was gorgeous; too, so maybe she would actually be more appreciative of my tale.

Shrugging with my quick verdict in mind, I rapidly unlocked the door and went inside, and was startled to see that Lilly wasn't the only one in our dorm. In fact, there were _two_ other people present, both playing video games on Oliver's/my TV. And my mind seemed to fry at the confusing scene in front of me.

_Oliver_? And… Andrea? In my dorm room? This was their 'first date'?

"Miley!" Lilly chirped to bring me out of my daze, and I smiled brightly, expecting similar greetings from the two—okay, _one _of them—on the floor, but they hadn't even torn their glances off the screen. Eh, oh well, maybe they're too into whatever it is they're playing.

"Hey guys," I greeted, trying to sound relaxed as I sat myself down on my bed.

Yet again, Oliver and Andrea remained annoyingly oblivious, but Lilly was staring me dead-on in the face. I smiled at her endearingly.

"O-M-G, HE KISSED YOU DIDN'T HE?!" she abruptly screeched.

At this I noticed Oliver lift his eyes towards mine for a brief moment, and then go back to the screen. Okay, so he _did_ know I was here. So what the hell was with the silent treatment?!

I chose to act as if I hadn't seen him, though, and laughed at Lilly. "Well, maybe."

"OH MY GOD, IT'S LOVE!" she yelled, resting her head into the palms of her two hands. "I am so jealous."

"I don't think it's love," I paused, not being able to hold back such a giant smile, "yet."

"EEP!" she cheered, clapping her hands excitedly, and I just wanted to hug her for some reason—she was so adorable. But I didn't think we were on that comfort level of friendship. I still felt like I barely knew her.

All of a sudden, I heard Oliver cry, "Shit! Andrea!"

And Andrea, who I had forgotten was even here at all, replied, "Ha! I gotcha that time, Ol!"

…_Ol_? Was she serious?

Oliver then looked at her with this super mischievous grin. I suddenly got a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach as I saw that look. It was _so familiar_ to me. It was—well, the smirk. _That he only gave to me_, I thought.

He continued smirking and wrapped an arm around Andrea's neck and bent her downward as if to smother her, and she laughed ridiculously loud, throwing herself playfully back at him.

I watched this with raised eyebrows. I've seen Oliver flirt before—but being _successful_ at it is such a different story. But I really shouldn't have felt like this was such a surprise—Andrea was apparently interested in him the other day, too. So why was I so shocked anyways?

"They've been like this all night," Lilly narrated for me with a tone of irritation, and I looked at her in confusion. "No offense, but I was sorta hoping Jake turned out to be an arrogant butthead so you'd come back earlier."

I giggled slightly, but was interrupted at another laugh being produced next to me. What the hell? Oliver was _continually_ making this girl laugh? This is… I don't know, _so weird!_

"So, Oliver," I said loudly, and he surprisingly directed his attention towards me, looking puzzled. "Wanna know how my date went?"

He blinked. "Sure?"

"It was great," I told him as I sat myself down next to him. Andrea looked sorta baffled, too, for some reason, like I can't go and sit next to my best friend or something. It also was kinda weird since she still hadn't event spoken a word to me. "He bought me sunflowers—_not_ roses," I continued anyway. "_Sunflowers_! My favorite!"

Oliver's nose kinda scrunched up. "Sunflowers, huh?"

"Yeah! How original is that?"

"I don't know. I was the one who told him you loved sunflowers."

I stared at him oddly as he gave me this sort of crude expression as he said it. I was about to reply when Andrea was like, "Where'd he take you?"

I was stunned that she was even taking the time to _sound_ interested. I glanced at Oliver, who still looked kinda angry, before I looked back to her with a gushing smile. "We went to a drive-in movie theatre."

Lilly "aww"ed loudly above us. "Oh my gosh! This sounds so romantic!"

"Yet again, my suggestion!" Oliver brashly claimed.

I glared at him. "Stop being jealous." Andrea got a weird look on her face as I said this, and it then occurred to me that my statement could have been taken the wrong way. Instantly I went on with, "Just cause you didn't take Andrea somewhere that cute."

She looked a bit relieved, and then twisted her head back to the TV screen. Oliver appeared seething mad, which was weird to see since he never usually is angry with me, yet alone looking THAT pissed off, but he turned back to the video game, too, declaring loudly, "C'mon, _Andrea_, time for me to kick your ass again."

His language around her baffled me. First "shit" and now "ass"… Usually he was more polite around women. And he had told me he was going to try to keep it to a minimum around _me_ at least.

But when she was like, "_Bring it, bitch_!" I suddenly felt like he could use any cusswords he liked towards her.

"So, anyways, Miley, I wanna hear everything," Lilly said with dreamy green eyes. "And I mean _all_ the details. I'm going to try to live vicariously through you I've decided."

I laughed. "What, why?"

"Because I will never have a date with Jake Ryan ever," she answered simply. "Now get onto it! Don't leave out a thing!"

"In that case, can you take it somewhere else?" Oliver interjected coldly. "I'm trying to concentrate here."

Furious and fed up with his attitude for the evening, I grabbed Lilly by an arm and stomped us to the door. "Fine then, we're going to the lobby."

He waved me off instead of using his voice, which, you know, wasn't a smart move since it just irritated me further.

My rebuttal was to slam the door behind us. Lilly looked a little frightened.

"Are you okay?"

"Never better!" I shouted and began my walk to the elevator with Lilly worriedly at my heels.

* * *

**Oooooh, Miley and Oliver arguing, and not of the playful type… Feelings are brewing, eh? ;) Especially with Miley comparing Jake to Oliver every five seconds… if you caught that anyways.**

**So tell me your thoughts because I do love feedback. :) Byeee.**


	9. we have chemistry, but not chemistry

**Heyyyyyyy guys! Hope you're happy I'm updating because as always, I didn't want to, lol. But I edited this _way_ too much to the point where I need to just let it be free, haha. And also, I'm going to Chicago for like a couple of days so I won't be around for a bit to work on this thing. I'm going to meet Mitchel Musso on Saturday! AHHHH! I'm so excited. And I hope to come home to some lovely reviews if I don't have the Internet up there. ;)**

**So that was my life story, haha. You may read the actual chapter now.**

**Disclaimer: yeah, okay, 'cause you'd truly believe me if I said I owned HM.**

* * *

**HeartWare**  
By Broken Oken

_chapter eight: we have chemistry, but not chemistry_

* * *

Needless to say, Oliver and I got over our little hissy fit the next day. I had figured as much that we couldn't stay so frustrated at each other over something that I wasn't even sure why it was frustrating in the first place. To be honest, I'm pretty sure I was just mad because he was mad, and vice versa. Immaturity at its finest. But it still bothered me that it had come to an actual _fight_ rather than one of our dumb, meaningless _arguments_. Oliver and I never really fought. It was weird. College had yet to actually _begin_, and we were already driving each other nuts? Not sure that's such a good sign.

Anyways, that very next morning, Oliver and I 'made up' in the way that we 'make up'. I received the following text message:

_Fr: Oliver  
"sorry if ur mad. ill give you head later to make up for it ;)"_

At the time I was still insanely pissed, but that somehow deflated that anger completely. I even sort of wished he were in the room just so I could hit him on the shoulder for his pervert self as I always do. But sadly I was alone, sitting upright in my dorm's bed, and he most likely in his own.

_Well, hopefully not in Andrea's anyway…_

I felt disgusted with myself to even think he'd do that after barely knowing her. Especially after we made that special promise to each other before we'd even arrived here. I was pretty damn sure he didn't _truly_ care about her just yet anyways. Helping someone with a fake sprained ankle doesn't equal true love.

Thinking about this girl was driving me crazy. I just didn't like her. The way she acted in my presence was a menace. She never really says hi to me, just kinda buts into a conversation that I'm having with someone else. Kinda rude. But she seemed so cool and chill with everyone else… so why was I such a problem?

I realize that most of Oliver's girlfriends in the past have always thought of me as a threat, but it's ridiculous. If Oliver and I were supposed to fall in love, it would've happened already, and it obviously hasn't, thus again proving my point that boys and girls _can_ be just friends.

However, Andrea was unlike all of Oliver's previous relationships. She, unlike them, would barely look at me—almost like she was trying to make me extinct to the rest of the room. This was not going to work if Oliver decides to actually date her. I would not be able to stand it if his own girlfriend won't give me the time of day. _Hellooo_, whether she likes it or not, I will continue to be in Oliver's life for the _rest of his life_. You can't give your boyfriend's best friend the cold shoulder _forever,_ right?

I don't like how my head seems to disagree with that last statement.

So, anyways, my texted reply to Oliver was just, "_ill meet u in the elevator ;)"_

Almost instantly he was like, "_whoa i like it when u give the sexy talk back."_

It is _kinda_ weird I guess since I never really joke back about these kinds of things; I usually just let him say the naughty statements and then laugh at them. But that day I had felt that I needed to be nicer and more chipper towards him since we had kinda actually fought the night before.

Probably surprising both me _and_ him, I texted back, "_I can do it all day… if u know what i mean."_

And he was like, "_:O where has this miley been hiding all my life? n if thats the truth, we better get started now."_

You know, maybe it is strange that we say these kinds of things to each other. But we're best friends, so it all means nothing in the end. Like I'd really want Oliver to…. _Yeah_ me in an elevator. _Right_.

Anyways, throughout that next week, I found myself growing closer to Jake. We talked on the phone almost every night, texted each other twenty-four seven, but we only hung out _twice_ more in person. Both times seemed like a repeat of our first date—flawless, ending with a simple and sweet kiss. I can't lie, I really almost want to throw myself on him now because he's too perfect, but I'm _not_ going to make the first move to deepen the kiss. The guys should always make the first move. Even _if _Oliver says it's hotter when the girl does it. But what does _he_ know?

He and Andrea appear to be attached at the hip. I mean, I really only see him every other day now because he's usually always with her, and I'd be, _"intruding_," (as he calls it) if I go and join them. Instead now I spend most of my time with Lilly watching TV or talking about nonsense with her out of boredom.

Oliver and Andrea both swear they aren't dating, which Lilly and I believe is seriously the biggest amount of garbage maybe ever. They have to be by now… they've gone on like, five dates, and are already planning a sixth. That makes it official, right?

They even both claim they haven't even _kissed_ yet.

AHHAAHAHAA.

Hearing that from Oliver Oken is pretty ridiculous. He's the horniest boy I know. Like I've stated before, he's _continually_ dirty talking to me, and Andrea is super pretty after all, so he's _had_ to try something at least. But he insists he hasn't and won't until they're 'officially dating', which I still don't understand how they're not.

It's weird that Lilly's best friend is almost dating my best friend. A very strange little world we live in. Who knew they'd be so ga-ga over each other, too. It's a little sickening.

…Maybe a little _too_ sickening.

* * *

The first day of classes was pretty nerve racking. I was biting my lip all morning before my first period had even started. In fact, I was probably even biting my lip in my sleep—if I got any, that is. Not sure if two hours of rest really constitutes as actual sleep.

Lilly was actually _excited_, not nervous in the tiniest bit. She was totally bouncing around the room that morning like a little blonde bunny rabbit or something. I even got my first taste of Lilly singing—and I had to admit, it was pretty horrible. There are ways to be offkey when you sing, but this was to the point where I wasn't sure if it was an actual human's voice, or a cat on its deathbed.

"Today is gonna rock out loud!" Lilly said as she spun herself around the room.

I looked at her as I brushed my hair for the thirty-sixth time. "I hope so."

"Too bad we don't have any classes together. That would be useful."

_Yeah, too bad, _I thought sadly. I was gonna be all alone unlike in high school where I had Oliver in six out of my seven periods.

"Yeah, but oh well. You're still helping me with math."

Lilly scrunched her nose a little. "What makes you think I can help you with that?"

I eyed the textbook on her bed. "You're in pre-calc, Lilly. I'm in like, basic math."

"Oh. Right." She blinked at the book as well. "But I freaking suck as a teacher. I'll probably only get you more confused."

"Can't be worse as Oliver," I said, laughing softly as frustrating memories from junior year's algebra class filled my head. I was constantly yelling at the poor kid as he tried very horribly to explain a supposedly 'easy' way on how to remember the quadratic formula. He was such a bad teacher that on a day of a math test, he put a post-it note on his back that had the formula written out for me. And because he sat directly in front of me, it didn't even look like I was cheating… just very interested in his shoulder blades.

"I don't even know him, but you're probably right," Lilly giggled out, walking to the door with her green purse swinging from her shoulder. "So, you ready?"

_No. I want to go home._

"Oh yeah."

* * *

My first two classes—Basic Math 8-8:50, and English 110 from 9-9:50 were surprisingly painless. Of course, it was only the first day so I had no _real_ idea of how difficult they were going to be. I could only hope they would continue not being agonizing. My math teacher, however, already gave us an assignment, which I think is complete BS since we didn't even learn anything in class yet, so how was I supposed to do homework already?

When my Chemistry class rolled around, I found myself to be the first to arrive. I glanced nervously at the white numbers on my cell phone—_9:53_. How had I made it here so quickly? Did I seriously _run_ from my English class?

Sighing I eyed a back corner of the room and quickly chose to sit in one of the desks closest by it. I plummeted my textbooks onto the desktop, and heaved another long, unhappy sigh as I planted my keester down.

Not even two minutes later, I was very startled to hear my name being called.

"Miley?"

My head shot up, and not even a second passed before my frown was turning upside down.

"Oliver!" I cried with such excitement that he looked a little stunned by it.

"How come you don't cry out my name like that whenever else you see me?" he wondered aloud as he sauntered over to the desk next to me, claiming it as his own as he swung his bookbag around it.

"I'm just—I can't believe—you're taking Chemistry?" I babbled.

His eyes widened. "_Chemistry_? Nooo, isn't this Humanities?"

My heart sank.

And he smirked.

"Juuust kidding."

"Don't do that!" I exclaimed as I promptly slapped him on the arm.

He smiled bigger as he escaped another one of my hits. "And why not? I like to know that my company is appreciated. You should've seen your face. You were about to cry."

"No I wasn't!" I argued, although at the time it had pathetically almost seemed like it.

"Sure, Mile, sure."

By this time other students began to invade the room, and our conversation was put to an abrupt halt as other chatter stirred. I looked at Oliver questionably as I saw his lips get tight over something he was currently gawking at with his dark eyes.

He must have caught my confused stare, as he simply said, "That guy over there."

I followed his eyes and felt my breath hitch in my throat.

No.

"R-Richie?" I asked in disbelief, and then Oliver snapped his attention to me, looking both infuriated and curious.

"You know that asshole?!" he cursed.

"Well, no, not really," I said, watching Richie completely ignore my existence and exchange a high five with a dark-haired boy sitting next to him. "He's that guy I ran into on my way to your room that one time…"

"He is so _gay_."

Oliver's cross tone and expression was more than baffling. "Okay, so he's a gay asshole why?"

"Gays like their assholes, Miley," he told me, and I rolled my eyes in disgust. "And he's a gay asshole because he is in my first class as well. My multimedia one."

"Therefore, he's a gay asshole?" I repeated, looking at Oliver doubtfully.

"Well, yes. And he knows Andrea."

I blinked a few times. "How does he know Andrea?"

"… I'm still trying to figure that one out…" Oliver growled.

"Maybe they're cousins?" I suggested unhelpfully.

"I don't think so… I heard him say something like, 'Andrea has the best legs I've ever seen.'"

"Oliver… really, there could be a hundred Andrea's in this school."

"Only one Andrea I know that has the best legs I've ever seen," he replied automatically, and again I felt disgusted.

"Okay, seriously, e_w_."

Oliver looked me over with a glare. "What?"

"I don't wanna hear you be a pervert over Andrea."

"Jealous?"

I glared back at him, unflinching. "_No_."

"Whatever you say, sunshine of mine," he commented with a smirk. I again rolled my eyes and refaced the front of the classroom as the teacher finally appeared. I had a feeling that this could be a very long semester.

* * *

When a boy and girl are best friends, people should look at it as being a beautiful thing in my opinion. They should just leave it alone, not question its limits and boundaries, because when, for example, a girl and girl are best friends, not many people would spend twenty minutes of their time badgering them about their relationship. So, yes, in my current friendship with Mr. Oken, I get to deal with, and win (I think), many arguments in which people are uncertain about what we are, and where we stand. I don't really get why this comes up so much on a regular basis in my life as it does because a boy and girl should be able to just _stay_ best friends since, like I stated earlier, it's a beautiful thing. Just leave it alone, right? Why can't people just get over the fact that people of the opposite sex can just be "just friends"? Well, I'm blaming Hollywood for those clichéd romantic comedies they always dish out. Oh, and the Disney Channel.

Oliver and I's relationship is very simple when I look at it, and I'm sure when _he_ looks at it, he thinks it's pretty simple as well. We're just two best friends that have been looking out for each other since I rolled out of that station wagon across his house in the second grade. That's _it_. I mean, we watched the stupid _Power Rangers_ together, even though I hated it, as the adjective 'stupid' suggests. But if he could put up with my _Sailor Moon_, I could put up with his thirty minutes of _Mighty Morphin' Time_.

And yes, just as in those clichéd films, we did grow older together. But um, _most best friends do._ It's just different I guess since I have ovaries, and he doesn't.

But seriously, we have a very simple, _unquestionable_ relationship.

However, I suppose I don't understand other people's opinions because when you walk out of Malibu—where you were surrounded by people you've known since, well, forever—and into the deep unknown sea of Santa Barbera, I guess we no longer have a simple relationship. In this bizarre new world, the idea of a boy and girl being best friends, and _nothing_ more, is, well, _alien _to everyone else I guess. We're, like, intruders, disrupting the peace and tranquility of same sex best friend relationships. And it's all just because he's a dumb boy, and I'm a smart girl—and we are not attracted to each other.

People think it's impossible. Um, but it so totally is, because once you've seen Oliver come out of the bathroom and call, "Hey, Miley, I think I just clogged up your toilet!" the idea of kissing him or anything just seems like a one way route to Pukesville.

Nonetheless, introducing him around has been a freaking challenge. Everyone has been all like, "Oh, boyfriend?" And I have to kindly replace the word 'boy' with the proper term of 'best'. Eventually I just started saying, "Hello, this is Oliver, he is my best friend, not my boyfriend to read your mind, and yes, I am psychic."

So, anyways. One of the very few people yet to imply anything _really_ suggestive about our relationship happens to be my new roommate, Lillian Truscott.

Well, until this _one _day anyways. I guess my dream of ever meeting someone who will understand the simplicity of our totally non-complex relationship will never come true.

It was after a long, long day of ridiculously boring classes and fancy pants professors who don't appreciate your dad's country metaphors on an English essay, and Lilly and I happened to bump into each other on the way back to our dorm. So, of course, we walked back together. And weirdly enough, about five minutes later, we also bumped into Oliver. A silent decision was made to just ride the elevator back together, which is where the whole mess got started.

"I'm pretty sure my English teacher wants to do me," Oliver was saying as we entered through the doors. Of course, something only a doughnut would say.

I let out a '_psh_' sound and crossed my arms. "Oh really now?"

"Really. I got an A plus _plus _on my essay," he smiled triumphantly about this.

Lilly looked at him oddly like any right-headed human being should. I mean, _Oliver?_ Getting an A plus _plus?_ Did he get a brain transplant?

However, her odd look had nothing to do with that idea. "Um, I also got one of those," she said calmly. "Does she wanna do me, too?"

I laughed loudly as Oliver's face colored. "Well… she smiles at me sometimes…"

"Geez, Oliver," she replied dryly. "That must mean Miley here is in love with you, too."

This startled me a little bit, while Oliver seemed to choke or something of the sort. I don't know why I should've been so surprised. I had been expecting her to ask someday, but I guess in an elevator with Oliver right next to me didn't seem too likely.

"_Excuse_ me?" I asked as the elevator doors opened and new people arrived. _Beautiful_. The conversation I always dreaded was going to be made in front of an extra five people… well, I guess it saves me the time with explaining to them, too, if I ever see them again.

Lilly stared at me like I was an idiot. "Um, you smile at him a lot."

God, that always seems to be such a prime reason in why we're more than friends to people. I guess people don't smile at each other anymore unless there's romantic feelings involved. Excuuuse me for missing that memo.

"He's my best friend?" I said sounding obviously annoyed.

"It was just a joke, calm down."

Well, thank goodness. Stupid conversation avoided.

Her eyes quickly glanced at Oliver. "You too."

Confused, I looked at Oliver, and he seemed to be glaring for no good reason. What was there to be so upset about right now? But when he caught my eye, the hostile look disappeared completely, and he smirked. Oh, great, The Smirk. I knew what was coming.

"Oh, Lilly, the only thing I'm upset about is that Miley here is denying her true feelings for me." He poked me on the shoulder. "C'mon, babe, the truth will set you free, I swear."

I tried and failed at not smiling, and shoved him back playfully. "Shut up."

"Not until you admit your undying love for me."

My wit kicked in immediately, "Actually, my love for you _is _dying right now."

"More like growing," he 'corrected' and winked at me. "Don't worry, darlin', no one has to know."

I rolled my eyes. "Honestly. I don't know what I'm going to do with you."

"Ooh, kinky. We haven't tried handcuffs in awhile."

I let out a short laugh before hitting him again. He pretended like he was mad, but I saw through it with his grin.

"Wow, you guys are something else."

For a second, I almost forgot Lilly had been standing next to us the entire time. Not to mention that the other five people had already been dropped off at their own floors. But that was how it always was with Oliver and I. We'd always just been a _duo_, not a trio. Having an extra person around us—we weren't used to that.

I giggled guiltily. Oliver just smirked, placing his arm around my shoulders, which was when I noticed something very… weird about the expression that struck Lilly's face. Like, a glint or something.

"Sorry you had to hear all those details, Lilly," Oliver said. "Miles and I here try to keep our sexual relationship on the DL."

Oh my God, could he _be_ any more embarrassing?! Sometimes I wish maybe he was a girl, then sentences like that would never have to like, be heard about us.

"Uh huh," Lilly said with that same weird expression.

And that was when I recognized it. It was _that_ look… the look that meant that the conversation that was derailed earlier was back on its tracks.

_Ding! _went the elevator. Oliver's floor. I panicked inwardly, knowing the second he'd leave, I was going to be bombarded with dumb questions all over again.

"Sorry, ladies, but I'm afraid I have to leave you now." Oliver took his arm off me and walked out of the elevator, turning back with that stupid smirk of his, directed at lucky old me, of course. "And Miles, I'll see you at eight, don't forget the handcuffs!"

As I leaned forward to strangle him, he darted backwards, and the elevator shut. I placed my hands on my hips, staring at the closed silver doors in frustration. Sometimes that boy doesn't know when to shut his mouth.

I felt Lilly's eyes burning holes in my head as we ascended to our floor. _Great_. I had to get this over with eventually. Or… I could avoid it again?

"What?" I asked her. Yes, that was my 'brilliant' plan on how to sidetrack her. Way to go, me.

She shook her head at me with a grin. Yep. Definitely hadn't sidetracked her whatsoever with _that _expression. "So, tell me, how long have you guys been in this stage?"

I'm not going to ask '_what stage?_' since that will prompt her to drag in the unnecessary romance survey. I'm just going to pretend she means it like as a platonic stage.

"Um, our whole lives."

"Really now? You fell in love at first sight, then?"

_Damnit._

"Lilly! Oliver and I are not in love!" I pleaded, rolling my eyes.

"Oh, but subconsciously you are, my dear." The _ding!_ went off again, and Lilly and I exited the elevator, with me, of course, glaring. "Since you've known him so long," she annoyingly continued, "you probably haven't realized how much you guys flirt."

"We don't flirt!" I yelled as she inserted the key into our doorknob to our room, and then swung the door open briskly. She basically ignored my arguing completely and went straight into the bathroom, closing the door forcefully behind her to block me off, I'm guessing.

"Joking about doing each other?" she called from inside. "Yeah, that's flirting."

"No it's not! Oliver and I just joke about dumb stuff like that. We're only best friends!"

"Miley," she said in a knowing, piss-you-off kind of way. "I know you're best friends. But, well, he's a boy. And, sorry, but you're a really pretty girl, and if he isn't crushing on you or _something_, then he's probably gay. Is Oliver gay?"

The nerve of her to ask that! Oliver is _so_ not gay. He may have watched Sailor Moon with me a zillion times, but that doesn't mean anything! And—and, wait, she doesn't even know about that.

"No—"

"Exactly," she interjected. "So why wouldn't he _not _like you?"

"Because we're JUST FRIENDS!" I shouted, pounding myself onto the door exasperatedly as I said it.

"He hasn't _once_ tried to kiss you?" I thought about it for a second, and I guess Lilly stupidly mistook it for a yes. "Ah, you see?"

"Hey! Oliver has never tried kissing me!" I claimed, although that night when we first got here seemed to be replaying in my head for some reason. But I highly doubt he was going to kiss me then. I think he just… well, I don't know, but I'm pretty positive the action was not meant to look like a pre-kiss.

As confident as I thought I sounded, Lilly still had to pester me some more. "Never?"

"Never!"

"Wow. He's gay."

"No he's not!" I argued, now feeling sort of like an idiot for yelling at a dumb white door, rather than a person's face. And this was ridiculous—Oliver was going after Andrea, Lilly's best friend, so why was she insisting on him being gay anyways? This was making little sense.

"Well, he's either gay, or crushing on you. Pick one. I have nothing against homosexuals either."

"LILLY!"

"What? I'm totally for gay rights if that's what Oliver—"

"HE ISN'T GAY!"

"So, he likes you?"

OH. MY. GOOOOOOOOD. This girl doesn't listen or something!

"No! He likes Andrea! You know that. He doesn't like _me_."

"Have you ever asked him?"

I blinked. "Asked him what?"

"If he likes you."

"Well," I blinked a few more times, "_No_, that would just be awkward."

"Why would it be awkward? You're best friends, _remeeeember_?" I could just see her chiding, arrogant face behind the door. "You're supposed to tell each other _eeeeverythiiiing_."

"Shut up! I don't need to ask him because I already know he doesn't."

"_Uh huh_."

"Lilly—"

"_Uh huh_."

"God, if I just I ask him, will you, will you _please_ drop this?"

She finally opened the door, wearing a huge toothy grin. "In a heartbeat! Because I won't need to ask when I see you walking back with him, hand in _haaand_, or lips on lips…"

I just glared at her. How could she even say that when it was going against the whole Andrea and Oliver relationship? Did she not approve of it, too, or something?

When I wasn't saying, Lilly must've thought I wanted her to continue with her acid-trip theory for she went on with, "I mean, with the way you two look at each other, my _God_—"

_"The way we look at each other?!"_What in the world was she talking about?! Now I can't even _look_ at my best friend? What am I supposed to do—stare at his huge ass feet?!

"Yeah," she answered, letting out some sort of odd chuckle. "It's kinda embarrassing to be around you guys sometimes. Because he's looking at you like he, I don't know, wants to rip off your pants and—"

My face flamed at the words. "He does NOT!!!!"

"—and you're all like, 'Oh, baby, just give it to me right now—'"

"LILLY!"

_Oh my GOD_, most people just drop it after the first few, "Are you sure there's nothing more under the surface?" questions, but Lilly was taking this to a whole new level… I mean, wow.

"Okay, I'm just joking about that last part. But you smile adoringly at him, okay?"

Sometimes I just want to slaughter my own smile because it always seems to lead back to Oliver somehow. Why can't I just smile and it not mean anything other than I'm happy?

"I do not."

"I don't even know how many times you've said 'not' tonight, but I'm very sick of it, so go talk to Oliver please. The chemistry you guys have is ridiculous," she chose to roll her eyes at me then, "And it needs to be used before it blows up the whole university."

"Chemistry?" I raised a brow.

"Uh yeah! You guys have serious chemistry."

"We do not have chemistry, Lilly," I told her bitterly, before a light bulb lit in my head. "Well, I mean, we do at ten on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fri—"

"Great, awesome, LEAVE."

And without knowing how it happened, I was suddenly shoved out the door.

I stuck my tongue out even though she couldn't see me. I'd freaking show _her!_ Oliver is totally _not_ into me. He is very much into Andrea Madison. As he should be because that girl could stop traffic. Yeesh. And why didn't Lilly bring her into the equation anyways by acting like Andrea didn't exist? Doesn't Andrea _like_ Oliver? And isn't Andrea, like, Lilly's best friend?

Oh well. I'm on a mission. And when I get through with it, Oliver and Andrea can go skip through a field of daisies holding hands for all I care.

When I finally arrived in front of Oliver's door, I rapped loudly with my knuckles onto it.

Jake surprised me by answering the door. I don't know how I had forgotten he rooms with Oliver. I guess I was too determined to get this stupid answer.

"Miley!" he exclaimed so happily that my heart kinda melted.

"Jake!" I greeted back with just as much enthusiasm, and he pulled me into a giant hug. I nuzzled myself into it, and then peeked over his shoulder to see Oliver on his bed staring over at us curiously. When he saw me looking, he waved, looking awkward for some reason. I grinned at him anyways, and the weird expression was replaced with a bright smile.

"So, Miley," Jake's voice brought me back to look at him. "Want to stay here for dinner? Don't know if you know already, but I'm an amazing chef. I made… Ramen noodles."

I laughed. "Actually, I'm here 'cause I gotta talk to Oliver about something." I saw Oliver straighten in interest behind Jake. "But I'd love to eat Ramen noodles with you tomorrow."

He blinked in puzzlement, but then grinned a little. "Well, works for me. Hey, Oliver!" he turned around to call him like he _hadn't _been eavesdropping the entire time. "Miley's here to talk to ya about something."

He got up instantly. "What is it, Miles?"

"Well." I glanced at Jake uncomfortably. "I, I can't talk to you about it here. It's kinda… _private_."

Oliver stared at me with another one of his weird little expressions. Oh, God, I really hope that's not the face Lilly referred to earlier… dear God, my face is on fire now.

Jake nodded his head. No idea if he was seeing my flaming cheeks or not.

"Yeah, go right ahead."

Oliver nodded, too, but he still didn't take his eyes off of me. Without a word, I waved to Jake, and walked out of the dorm, Oliver after me. My face eventually calmed itself down.

We ended up in the library. I don't know why really, I just randomly found myself deciding it'd be okay to talk there even though talking is obviously UN-encouraged in a library. But anyways, once inside, I hastily searched for a more secluded area of books and found an outdated area of biography books—further back from the study tables so no one would have to be bothered by our conversation.

Oliver was looking at me with the same expression, but he still hadn't spoken a word. When he finally did, he was just like, "Are you going to say anything? Or just stare at me for a whole hour?"

I don't know why I felt so nervous all of a sudden. This was just Oliver. My best friend. Our friendship could stand the test of time; that was for sure. And a dumb conversation like this wouldn't do crap to it either. It would probably only take about two minutes, so I guess I didn't have to drag him all the way out to some random spot. And now that I think about it… why did it need to be private anyways? It probably actually needed to be public so everyone could get it through their thick skulls that we are JUST FRIENDS.

However, I decided to have us stay in the private area anyways because what if… what if Lilly turns out to be right? What if Oliver _does_ have feelings for me? I mean, he doesn't, but… I don't know, my stomach hurts thinking that he might because I don't know what I'd do if he admitted he did. _Oh my God._

"I actually came here to prove a point," I told him, my voice quavering a bit.

He raised an eyebrow. "That you can read?"

It took a second to register the joke before I shoved him, and he chuckled. _Phew_. That chuckle meant that at least some of the tension was gone.

"No, no, it's about something else," I continued. "About, well, you."

He tilted his head a little. "Go on…"

I swallowed a huge amount of air. "Do—uh—you like… me?"

As if the library wasn't quiet enough, I swear I heard crickets chirping. He looked at me very… peculiarly, like he was trying to see through me. It kind of made me feel self-conscious, to tell you the truth. And the fact that he didn't speedily reply was sending my stomach into crazy back flips.

"Um, Miles, you're my best friend. Of course I like you."

Okay, Oliver may not achieve the best of grades, but he's smart enough to know that I wouldn't just ask him if he liked me as a person. I obviously know he does. So, why's he avoiding the real topic?!

"Not like that. Like… you know…" I waggled my eyebrows. "Are you… _attracted_ to me?"

"Like, are you pretty?"

Why the hell was he avoiding the question! He knew exactly what I was talking about!

"Oliver! Do you like me as more than a friend! Yes or no!"

It got quiet again, and he was narrowing his eyes at me in a way I hadn't really seen before from him. Man, what was with all these weird looks of his lately? _Just… c'mon, Oliver, say that you don't so I can go back and laugh in Lilly's face… please._

"Why are you asking me this?" was what he called an answer.

"Like I said, to _prove a point_! That you _don't_! Right? You totally know that us dating would be the weirdest thing maybe ever!"

Another moment of silence. Something flashed in his eyes.

"Yeah. I know," he finally said in the most monotone voice I'd ever heard.

But I was relieved. The squirming in my belly quit, and I could now breathe properly. But somehow… I still didn't feel all that great.

It was like I almost felt _sad_ that he didn't.

My head scrambled at what that could possibly mean, and I now wanted to go run away to my dorm room and scream into a pillow.

I know for a one hundred percent fact that I _don't_ like Oliver, but I shouldn't be wishing that he liked me! What. The. Hell.

Nonetheless, I ignored all these crazy thoughts and relaxed my shoulders. "_Thank-you_!" I said. "Now that _that's_ settled, I can go tell Lilly, and she can stop being so retarded about all this." I started to walk away when I felt Oliver's hand grab me by the arm. I spun around quickly in confusion. "Oliver?"

His face seemed determined. "Miley…"

Um, why was he whispering? Oh, right, we're in a library. That must be it.

"Yeah?"

"I…" he went quiet again, and suddenly his serious voice transformed into a more normal Oliver-sounding upbeat one, "I do think you're pretty, you know."

I smiled. Okay, that made me feel well again for some reason. "I know, Oliver."

"Yeah… just… making sure."

I turned back around when suddenly a large roaring sound erupted from behind me. Alarmed, I looked to see Oliver holding his stomach embarrassedly.

"What? I'm hungry," he whined.

I laughed, and the two of us walked out of the library. (Not hand in hand either, Lilly, and _definitely_ not lips to lips.)

But little did I know, was that this place would be seeing a lot more awkward conversations and definitely a lot more of us.

* * *

**;) You like? Dislike? Let me know! I'm off to Chicagooo!**

**Hey, that rhymed. :)**


	10. the freak out fest

**Heyyyy... sorry for the delaaayyyy... It's gonna be okaaaayyy. Hahaha, wow, my rap's done, you can uncover your ears. :P**

**Anyways, yeah, I met Mitchel Musso. He's cuuuuuuuute. ;) That's all I'll bother you with when it comes to that.**

**SO, CHAPTER NINE! Get puuumped for it's a long one. My bad. I couldn't find a good stopping point. So hopefully the one I chose will suffice. :)**

**Disclaimer: On the bottom of the HM cast's feet, you can find my name tattooed there. I OWN THEM. O_O. Okay, just kidding, unless they all weirdly do, which would be a tad bit freaky...****

* * *

**

**HeartWare  
**by Broken Oken

_chapter nine: the freak out fest_

* * *

Classes wore on as Lilly's suspicion wore off. Homework grew to an immense kind of stressful, especially Chemistry. And this is going to sound crazy, but Richie still had yet to know I existed in his class. I was somehow always lucky enough for him to walk in and look right over me like I was just an empty desk, not a person at all. And then there's that chance that he could just be ignoring me. I can't decide on what I'd rather him do.

Oliver was always _so_ annoying during class. I mean, this came as no surprise—he was in high school, too—but this was somehow… _different_. Almost like he was being annoying on purpose instead of his "accidental" douche-baggery in the past. Still, I had to be thankful for one class with someone I knew. I'm not sure if Oliver would have been my first choice; sure, he's my best friend, and I'll love the kid 'til the end of time, but… lately he keeps pissing me off more than normal. _Way_ more than normal.

For example: I'll be sitting there, furiously taking notes like nobody's business, and he'll throw a freaking pencil at my head like we're in grade school or something. Fortunately we sit in the back, or else I'm sure Mrs. Plym would choke us both already even when I have nothing to do with it. I don't even try to respond with an angry look anymore. I simply pretend Oliver never did anything deserving of a slap across the face (though he _totally_ does). It's funnier that way anyway because I think it frustrates him more, thus, I'm getting my revenge done and over with.

Anyway, one day in the middle of Chemistry, I felt something hit my cheek. Already knowing whom my assailant was, I growled lowly to myself until I heard Oliver's hoarse whisper of, "It's a note. _Read it_."

Resisting a roll of the eyes, I noticed the crumpled ball of notebook paper—the thing that hit me, of course—lying there on the floor. I bent downwards to get it, and when I looked up, Oliver's face was slightly red. I gave him a questioning glance, and I received the _strangest_ chuckle for an answer, along with a gesture for me to just "_read the note already_".

I unfolded the note hastily; loving how already wound up I was when I still hadn't the slightest clue what the thing was even going to say.

'_Richie was lookin at you a min ago.'_

Frantically I looked to where Richie was sitting, but instead of his eyes, I was met with his back, currently turned towards the PowerPoint presentation Mrs. Plym was teaching, a.k.a. where I should be focusing my attention as well.

I wrote back a nasty response of '_nice try, now leave me alone_,' and tossed it carelessly back onto Oliver's desk.

Seconds later I was angrily surprised to be hit by the same paper ball, and it landed yet again on the floor next to me. I shook my head in my growing frustration and yet again leaned myself over to retrieve it. _Also_ yet again, I was met with Oliver's bizarrely blushing cheeks.

"What?" I hissed softly.

He looked a little embarrassed—almost like he had been caught in the act of doing something he shouldn't. Knowing Oliver well enough, I knew this probably had some kind of perverted explanation… and all it took for me to figure it out was for me to glance downwards and notice the low-cut shirt I was wearing.

I covered my cleavage instantly with a hand and pulled my shirt upwards, looking at Oliver completely appalled. He smirked, still blushing; nonetheless, before shrugging and nodding towards the note he'd thrown me. _Honestly, this isn't middle school, Oliver, really…_

Forgetting about the fact that my own best friend had been gaping at my chest, I turned back to the piece of paper.

'_No he really was. He looked pretty happy too.'_

My heart leapt into my throat. I was with Jake—my own freaking _boyfriend_—and I felt like the worst person in the world to be thinking _cheerily_ that _hottie_ Richie _noticed_ me yet again. Well…. if he talks to me I'm just gonna have to tell him that I'm dating someone.

But I'll be sad to do it, shamefully enough.

My pencil scribbled a messy response, '_I don't care. I have Jake.'_

Half lie.

And he knew it immediately because when he tossed the ball back, it had an unconvinced, _'Whatever you say,'_ written on it.

The boy knows how to push my buttons.

…_juuust_ like I know how to push his.

'_Like you have much room to talk, Mr. Not-Dating-Andrea-But-We're-All-Up-In-Each-Other's-Business-24/7.'_

'_I'm not dating her.' _He sent a glare as I read it.

'_Yes you are. Now leave me alone. Don't toss this back.'_

And I must have annoyed him enough for him to actually listen to my request.

* * *

When Chemistry ended, Richie was _very_ obviously taking an awfully long time to gather his things into his backpack. I wasn't stupid enough to not know that he was going to try to catch me on my way out to the hallway. He was waiting for me to walk by. And there was no way I could exit the room without doing so—unless I hopped over desks, which wouldn't look strange _at all_…

Nervously I collected my things as well, and probably just to further irritate me, Oliver watched with a roll of his dumb brown eyes.

"You're gonna drop them if you shake any harder," he said as he stood there next to my desk, waiting for me like he always did.

"I'm not shaking!" I threw back, though I knew he was right. My hand was quivering more obviously than Richie's little act in front of us.

"Right." Yeeeah, Oliver didn't believe me either. Without a word he began walking away from me before I was even ready, so I hurriedly jumped up, running after him in the aisle like a madwoman. He didn't even need to be facing me for me to know there was an arrogant, asshole-istic smirk on his face.

"Oliver! Wait up!" I called as he sped even faster. He was _trying_ to make me get stuck with Richie by myself. I just _knew_ it!

We were about to pass up the area where Richie was still residing, and I knew that if I didn't get next to Oliver soon, he was going to succeed in his plan to talk to me. And I did _not_ want to deal with that. _Not _yet. So with as much adrenaline as I could possibly muster, I forced my legs to run faster than any time during high school gym class _combined_ and suddenly found myself right next to my best friend.

And oddly enough, I grabbed one of his hands.

Oliver turned to me immediately at this weird gesture, looking wildly puzzled.

"Shut up, go with it!" I yelled at him—though I myself didn't know what I was doing—and I gripped his hand tighter as I dragged him out the door. I could totally feel Richie's eyes burning into me the entire time.

Oliver surprisingly didn't try busting out of my grasp. After my demand, he didn't need another; he merely smiled and walked with me out into the hallway without any kind of rebuttal. Almost like this was a _normal_ thing—us holding hands or whatever.

"What was that?" he asked when we were far enough away from the classroom for Richie not to hear. I had been worriedly looking behind me the whole time.

"I didn't want him talking to me, doughnut." The nickname brought some sort of sparkle across his eyes.

"And _this_," he held up our locked hands closer to my face, "prevents that how again…?"

"He'll realize I'm taken," I replied, sticking my nose to the air.

"By…_me_," he said with a slow blink.

Oh, shit.

"Er—didn't think that through," I said, now embarrassed at what I had just presented to Richie. Of all people to pretend date in front of him, I had to pick _Oliver_?

He looked to laugh when his eyes were grabbed by something out in front of us. Whatever it was caused his hand to leave mine in an instant.

And through a sea of people, I saw it, too—Andrea eyeing us suspiciously.

"Oliver," she said sternly, really only looking at me, though she was clearly talking to the person next to me instead.

"Yeah, I'll walk you to class," Oliver seemed to answer a question plainly unasked and left my side at once.

"Er, bye?" I said as they abruptly turned their backs. Andrea gave me a curious raised eyebrow before continuing to walk down the hall, but Oliver didn't glance back once. His expression looked pained and troubled.

I watched them in interest until they disappeared. Then I placed my hands on my hips before realizing that my next class would be starting in about four minutes, and it was on the opposite side of the building.

_Brilliant._

* * *

Back at the dorm room after all of my classes were finally over, I discovered Lilly absorbed in the television as usual. But her eyes were dreamier than usual, and it took me a second to see why—_Jayy TV_ was the show she was watching.

"Hey Miley," she greeted dryly, obviously not really on planet earth.

"Hey, how was class today?" I asked her as I set my stuff down onto my bed.

"Good. No homework tonight."

"Lucky. I got like ten Chemistry questions, a test to study for on Wednesday, and two pages of freaking Math."

She nodded in reply, and I realized this was probably the only conversation I'd be getting out of her while the show was on, so with a sigh, I fished my Chemistry textbook out of my backpack.

_Question One…_

* * *

Later that evening as I was falling asleep on page forty-three of my Math textbook, Lilly surprised me with this unnerving query:

"Hey, Miley, do you like Andrea?"

I lifted my head, trying to keep any answer hidden from my expression. "Wha—yeah." _Lie_.

"She doesn't think you do." She quickly flipped open her cell phone. "She said, '_What's Miley's problem with me_'?"

"What?" I said, now feeling pretty angry. "Problem with _her_? She's the one with the problem with _me_." Thinking the conversation might be over, I returned to my homework.

But Lilly continued. "I don't know. She seems _pretty_ upset that you don't like her."

"Well, maybe it's cause she steals Oliver away all the time," I answered automatically before freezing. Oh, _beautiful_—I had been cleverly avoiding any more Lilly suspicion, but that probably sounded like she was right all along.

"…they are kinda dating," Lilly muttered, avoiding my eyes completely.

I narrowed my eyes. "But Oliver just told me today that they aren't."

"I think they are now. Officially."

For some reason, I felt like crying about this. Why hadn't Oliver told me yet?

"Oliver didn't tell me."

"I don't know… Maybe Claudia heard wrong… Miley, are—are you _sure_ you don't have any feeli—"

"NO!" I yelled, already knowing the turn the conversation was taking. "I'm just sad that he didn't tell me, and that—that—they're _not _right for each other!"

"How are they not right?" Lilly's tone seemed to be venturing on angry, which was almost stunning since this was an emotion I had yet to see from her.

"They just—she makes him follow her around _everywhere_, and to walk her to class, and like, she doesn't like me! How can Oliver date someone who doesn't even like me? I'm his best friend!"

"Andrea likes you, Miley," Lilly argued. "And of course he'll do stuff like that for her because he likes her, not you anymore!"

"What are—" I took a giant breath to try and calm myself, "you talking about?"

"Are you _kidding_ me?" I could only stare at her, so she went on briskly, "The boy was in _love_ with you, Miley, I swear to _God_—and I don't swear too much to Him or else my parents would cut my ears off." She seemed to be stammering at this point. "He did everything for you, _everything_, but he probably got tired of waiting and went for someone who actually gave him the time of day!"

I wanted to cry really, really badly now. This didn't even make sense, but I still felt like crying. In fact, I think I could feel water forming in my eyes. Was this what happens when you're angry and confused at the same time?

"He was never in love with me, Lilly, we're just best friends, I'm telling you!"

"Do you know why I was pestering you the other day about you guys? Because I knew it'd be your last chance if you _did_ love him back! I was trying to do you a nice thing so this wouldn't happen. You're just angry now 'cause you lost that chance, and the two are perfectly happy together. Without you. Get over it, Miley."

And with that she got herself into her bed, and threw the covers over her. I held in a sniffle and turned away. I hadn't thought Lilly could ever be so mean.

And nothing she said was logical anyways… Oliver doesn't love me. I don't love him. We're best friends… God, why was this so difficult for people to understand?!

Turning to my cell phone sitting there on the desk, I immediately sent Oliver a new text message.

_"R u and andrea really dating now?"_

There was about a minute before it beeped that I had a reply.

"_No, 4 the 100000__th__ time."_

Something like relief washed over me at once. But it wasn't fully gone. Not yet.

"Lilly said u guys are tho."

"idk y she told u that cuz we aren't. id have told the world already if we were."

Well, that's great to know. He really _does_ like this girl… too bad I hate her.

"_so u really aren't?"_

_"no, miles, we really aren't. & get some sleep. its like 2 in the morning."_

"sry 4 bothering u..."

"no its fine. Love u."

Despite the horrible crappy feeling inside me, the words on the screen left me smiling.

_"love u 2 doughnut."_

_":)"_

* * *

When I awoke the next morning, Lilly was already out of the room, probably off to class early… but really probably avoiding confrontation with me. I can't say it wasn't a little relieving to see her bed unoccupied.

After getting ready for the day, I set off to my first class I have on Tuesdays at 10:00—my Chemistry lab. Unlike with class, however, Oliver was put into a different lab, which made this period a lot harder to motivate myself to go to.

However, when I got to the door, there was a white piece of paper declaring that the lab was rescheduled for tomorrow evening at 6:00, or to make it up at another lab if you can't make that time. I grimaced—I could make it, but I was not looking forward to spend more time on Chemistry twice in one day… especially not at night, where I should be free of schoolwork.

I got out my cell phone and decided to text the boyfriend. As much as I felt like I needed Oliver more (a strange emotion really), I figured maybe I just needed some time with Jake. I texted him brightly, "_Mornin sleepyhead. wanna catch breakfast? My lab got cancelled :)"_

An immediate response as always: _"Sure. Meet u in the café in 15?"_

I smiled and texted back my agreement before heading to the nearest elevator. Breakfast with the boyfriend. Not a totally bad start to a day I was kinda dreading…

* * *

This is going to sound odd, and maybe I'm being too judgmental, but I think I was happier to see Jake than he was to see me.

I didn't really think this until about the middle of breakfast when I was digging into my cereal like a starved animal. At first he looked a little amused until I began talking as I chewed. He kinda frowned, but I was too hungry to give a hoot.

"…so yeah, now Lilly is pissed at me. I should be the one pissed at her. She's the one making up crap about how Oliver used to be in love with me or whatever, when he never ever was or I _think_ I would have noticed. He _is_ my best friend and all! I know everything about the kid!"

Jake shrugged as he bit a piece of bacon.

"And like, accusing me of not liking Andrea? What is that? She's the one who despises my existence. God. She is such a…a… well, you know! I really don't know what Oliver even sees in her. Looks are _not_ everything."

He kind of nodded with a wince, staring at my mouth as I talked.

"Oh, I'm sorry, am I talking with my mouth full again?"

He nodded again, and I giggled, wiping my lips with my napkin. "Sorry, I'm just used to Oliver not caring. He thinks it's funny. Didn't mean to gross you out."

"Eh, it's okay."

It was then I took in the slight disgruntled expression on his face. I looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"No… there's something." I squinted. "Actually you've barely spoken to me all through breakfast. I've been the one babbling like an idiot."

"It's nothing. But listen, I gotta get to class. I'll see ya later?"

I nodded with a sad smile, unhappy that he was leaving so soon. "Yeah, sure thing." I leaned across the table to try to kiss him, but he had already stood up. Puzzled, I watched him plainly wave to me and walk the other direction.

What the heck was that?

I frowned and stared down at my soggy cereal. Had I done something wrong?

* * *

I had nothing planned for the rest of the day, so that unfortunately allowed me to spend hours obsessing over Jake's odd behavior. He wasn't going to break up with me right? After only a month and a half? Was I _that_ bad of a girlfriend? I mean, I know we haven't had sex yet… wait, was that what he wanted? Was _that_ why he was upset?

I had to talk to someone—someone who understands men and their crazy emotionless actions.

So I immediately dialed Oliver's number; for once calling instead of texting.

It took four rings for him to answer, and wherever he was at was very loud. I could barely hear his "Hello?" over the noise.

"Hey Oliver, can you come over for a little bit?"

"Miley?"

I blinked. "Um… _yeees_…"

"Sorry, I can just barely hear. What'd you say?"

"Can you come over for a little bit—where are you?"

"Bowling alley."

I glanced at the clock. "It's like… noon."

Now that I knew where he was, I could recognize the rattling of pins and bowling balls being dropped down lanes. "I have my Physical Education class this time on Tuesdays and Thursdays."

"You get to bowl?"

"Yep. And what time do you want me to come over?"

"Whenever you can. It's important."

"Mmkay. I'll bring my Chemistry book and maybe we can study for that test tomorrow, too?"

I felt a sudden jolt go through me. "Oh, CRAP! I forgot about that! Good idea."

"As they always are."

"Shut up," I chuckled.

"Well, it's about my turn so I'll see ya in about… two hours?"

_Yes!_ I thought smugly. He has no stupid Andrea plans today.

"Sounds good!" I piped.

"Bye dollface."

I smiled brightly at this new name for me. It was almost… cute. For Oliver anyways.

But like _I_ could be that nice.

"Bye loser."

And I hung up before he could say anything else.

* * *

It was 2:30 p.m., and Oliver had yet to arrive at the door. So, he was only thirty minutes late, no big… I still felt a little discomforted, though. Lilly was also not here, either, but I suspected she was with Andrea, complaining about me maybe or something.

More time passed, and I continued my million glances at the clock. 4:30 p.m. And Oliver _still_ wasn't here? Okay, maybe he forgot he had to do something else first…

But wouldn't he have called or texted or, or something?

I opened my cell phone, but I had no missed calls or new text messages.

Biting my lip, I told myself not to worry, and that he would be over soon.

* * *

Around eight-thirty, a.k.a. six hours later, I was still without any company in my dormroom. I had tried calling Oliver a total of twelve times, and probably sent at least twenty texts, but he didn't pick up or reply at all. I was beginning to think he got in some sort of car accident… but the bowling alley was here on campus, I had thought, so how was that even possible?

I had been also trying to talk to Jake to calm me down, but he was being weird by giving me all these one-word text messages. Usually that means a person is mad about something, or annoyed, but I was pretty sure that I hadn't done anything wrong. Was my eating-with-my-mouth-full really that big of a turn off? I could change…

…though Oliver wouldn't want me to.

_Oliver._

I felt _really_ strange when I thought his name for some reason. My heart felt like it tore—not just in half, but in every direction, probably in twelfths I felt like crying really badly for being ditched by him. Oliver never ditches me. Like, it only happened a few times back in high school when he was going through that baseball thing, but he would at least call and apologize… and had a reasonable excuse every time… and now, I'm stuck on waiting for one that doesn't seem to be coming.

I glared at my Chemistry book, not wanting to begin studying, but I didn't have a choice. I probably already had a D in the class I sucked so much at it.

With one more look at my un-opening door, I sighed, and turned to page fifty-one.

It was going to be a very long night indeed.

* * *

Oliver never did come by that night. Neither did Lilly, though her company was way less anticipated.

I dreamed that night that Oliver was running towards a cliff, and I tried to stop him. He insisted that Andrea was waiting for him at the bottom. I screamed and screamed for him to stop and to be careful, but he didn't listen—he leapt from the edge, leaving me there to watch him fade to the bottom, where nobody was there to catch him—not even Andrea.

* * *

When I awoke that next morning, disgustingly drooling on my Chem book, I immediately checked my phone.

_One New Text Message.  
Fr: Oliver  
"hey sry bout last night. will explain l8r. hope u studied well. c ya 10!"_

I felt like throwing the damn phone across the room. He didn't even _sound_ sorry! I was so angry that I really didn't even wanna go to my classes today, but I knew that I had to or else that D would plummet to a big fat F.

So after falling asleep in Math, and typing a really crappy rough draft of an essay in English, I grumbled my way into the Chemistry room.

I was surprised to see Richie already in there, and he gave me a bright smile.

I half-blushed and kept my eyes to the back of the room. Even though I was pissed off at Oliver, I wanted him to appear already so Richie would quit looking at me.

I got my wish as Oliver Oken came skipping through the room, looking happy as a lark. I could barely believe the giant smile on his face.

"Miley!" he shouted, and I slammed my head down into my textbook.

I heard him situating himself down in his usual seat next to me. "Sorry about last night, I—"

"Don't talk to me," I growled.

"Miley, just listen—"

"No, _you_ listen," I barked. "Yesterday was one of the worst feeling days of my life. I don't want to talk to you. And I don't really want to see you either. I'm pissed enough already, and I have a test to concentrate on today."

I didn't bother looking at him long enough to see his expression, but whatever I said must've been enough to cause him to go into a stunned silence. And to not even attempt talking to me again.

The test was surprisingly easier than I had imagined. This, of course, frightened me because usually when I think a test is easy, I completely bomb it. But I didn't even care today. I finished before Oliver, and when I handed my test to Mrs. Plym, I strode out of the room as quickly as possible. I wanted to go back to my dorm, collapse on my bed, and cry.

Unfortunately, I still had Sociology.

Screw my life.

* * *

That afternoon after my classes were done for the day, I decided I really needed to get my emotions out since I couldn't talk to Oliver, or Lilly (she was still M.I.A.). I even resorted to the option of trying to get ahold of my dad, but I only got the answering machine. Even my _dad_ has a life.

I left my dorm with a notebook and my guitar. It was time to write it out.

I didn't know where I was going until I caught glimpse of the park from a window. It looked strangely inviting. I felt like I could maybe get good inspiration at the bench sitting in front of it, so shrugging and not knowing where else I'd do this anyways, I walked to it, took a breath, and began my emotional release.

* * *

I found myself still sitting at that bench even two and a half hours later, tapping my pen to the paper occasionally, biting my lip, staring out at nothing as a thousand people walked by. My notebook was covered in black scribbles and smudges and even a few tears here and there. In short, I was sucking a lot today. The only lyric I had managed to even like so far was, "_They say that good things take time, but really great things happen in a blink of an eye_". It was really the only thing I had written that was nice sounding. Everything else was like, "_Why are you such a bad friend, I hate you, she's a whore, just walk out the door_," and lots of other really stupid things that didn't sound like songs at all.

Picking up my guitar, I strummed it once, then twice, and set it back down. _God_. Why does everything I write sound so angry today? I should write about happy things… though, I'm not sure what… Maybe I should be writing about Jake and how happy he makes me. But no, he's barely talking to me right now for some reason. And besides, I just wanna bitch about Oliver ignoring me for Andrea. God, they aren't even _dating_! Why they aren't, I don't understand, they're attached at the hip and all…

I was suddenly startled by a hand clamping onto my shoulder. I flew upwards until the unmistakable chuckle of the devil himself filled my ears.

"Scare ya, did I?"

"Fuck off, Oliver," I told him angrily, turning away from him. I could barely believe I had even used the F bomb on him; I hadn't realized I was _that_ upset… but c'mon, the previous night gave me permission. But what was more shocking than my language was that Andrea wasn't standing right there next to him, hovering like a… hovering… person…thing.

Without my consent, Oliver ambled his way onto the park bench beside me, smiling at me of all things, completely ignoring my bad tongue and irritable attitude. "So whatcha writing?" he asked casually and reached for my notebook, but I pulled it away triumphantly.

"None of your business. Go away."

He looked at me. "Stop being so stubborn. You know you forgive me."

"How can I forgive an asshole who doesn't care enough to apologize?"

"Hey, hey now," he said loudly, and I eyed him with a sharp glare. "I tried. You wouldn't listen, so I _do_ care. I'm an asshole who gives a shit, like most assholes are designed to do on a human body."

I bit my tongue to keep myself from laughing. The last I wanted to do was show any kind of positive emotion towards him. I knew three words that would suffice: "I hate you."

He put out his own three words: "You love me," and began reaching forward to tilt my chin upwards with his finger. I shook it away from him angrily. "Oh, Miles."

"'_Oh, Miles_' what?"

"I don't know. How's Jakey?"

_I would've told you last night had you showed up, you dickhead._

"Go ask him, he's your roommate, you know."

"Wow, you're actually mad at me, aren't you?"

I rolled my eyes. "Figure that one all out on your own?"

He shifted himself into an Indian-style position on the bench. "Listen, Miles, I really am sorry. It's just, listen, I was… I was with Andrea."

I stared at him in disbelief. THAT WAS HIS BRILLIANT FUCKING EXCUSE?!

"Really, Oliver?! _That's_ why you ditched me? And you didn't even call or answer my texts or _anything?!_"

"Give me a chance to explain, okay?!" he yelled pathetically. "I'm _really_ trying to impress this girl. She likes me. A lot."  
_  
Yeah, for some dumb fucking reason I can't figure out at the moment._

"Sooo, by ditching me and leaving me to study for our test _all by myself_ and not even _telling me you wouldn't show up_, you impress her? Somehow, Oliver, that doesn't exactly make sense."

"No, no. I had to ditch you because she thinks I love you, not her."

I shot my head up at this. "Huh?"

He sighed like he was irritated. "Andrea thinks I'm in love with you or something, so I gotta prove to her that I'm not. She won't date me unless she knows it for a fact. And she always says I'm communicating with you too much on my phone, so I couldn't call you or anyth—"

"You're not in love with me," I interrupted bluntly.

He smirked. _Oh, here we go._

"But you're in love with me."

I went cross-eyed. "Uh, no, what are you talking about?"

"Lilly told me that last night you were moooaning my name in your sleep. Steamy dreamies there, Mile?"

I was so horrified at this that it didn't even register that Lilly must've been in the dorm last night after all. I blushed and hit him over the head with my notebook. "_No_! I had a dream you were going to jump off a cliff! And I was telling you to stop."

"Lilly said it sounded like, 'OOOLLIVVERR!! OOOHH, OLIVERRR, YOU MAKE IT FEEEL SOOO GOOOOOODDD!'"

He was so loud that people were beginning to stare, and I lunged forward and brought my hands over his mouth. I was disgusted to have him lick me.

"She did NOT tell you that," I hissed, wiping my hand on my jeans.

"So it is true?"

"No! I mean, I was probably shouting your name, but that was it!"

"Right." he stared at me for a long, piercing moment. "So do you forgive me? And please say yes, cause I gotta ask ya about something."

"Yeah, yeah, fine, whatever—what do you want?"

"Besides you?" he asked, and it almost sounded like he wasn't joking until he laughed it off.

"And you wonder why she thinks you're in love with me," I muttered.

"You are so feisty today," Oliver commented in amazement. "I love it."

"I am not feisty!" I shouted angrily before calming down an instant later. "Well, maybe. But what the hell do you want? I'm busy here, ya know."

He rolled his eyes before replying, "It's about Andrea."

"Okay, seriously, I'm leaving." I stood up, slinging my guitar back over my shoulder and grabbing my notebook before Oliver had a hand clamped to my wrist. I narrowed my eyes at it.

"Just listen, please?"

I grumbled and sat myself down, folding my arms.

"Thank-you," he said brightly. "I was wondering… how do you ask someone to be your girlfriend exactly?"

I could barely believe the childish question was even being posed.

"Yeah, Oliver, because I have so much experience with asking someone to be my girlfriend."

"I thought you were done being bitter."

"No."

"Well, stop, this is serious!" he said with a glare. "I wanna ask Andrea to officially start dating, but in a really romantic way. She's a sucker for those kinds of things. And I'm scared if I don't do it right, she'll just… dump me."

"How can she dump you when you're not even dating!" I yelled at him, and he grinned guiltily.

"You know what I mean, Miles. Just… I wanna do it right. I figured you would know."

I grumbled to myself before setting my notebook completely down with a long, unhappy sigh. "Alright… I don't know why you're making this so complicated. Just ask her. Be like, 'Hey, wanna be my girlfriend? For real?'"

"No I can't do that!" he said dramatically, waving his hands. "I can't just be casual about things. She's _Andrea_. Not _you_."

This comment was something else.

It almost felt like, like a stab in my heart. As if I was being dumped. The way he had said it sounded like I was _nothing_ compared to the girl. As if… she was more… _important_. And for as long as I could remember, I was _always_ more important. Even with his past girlfriends, he still very obviously had me as his number one in his life. I'd never heard him so… infatuated with someone else before.

Oliver must have saw my aghast expression and was like, "No offense, Miles. I love you, but…" he seemed to look awkward at the words. "Never mind. I'm a dick."

"No, it's okay," I choked out, still feeling like a huge part of me was being ripped apart. He had ditched me for Andrea, and now it felt like he was replacing me with her in his head all together… and she was so _horrible_… I didn't understand this.

"Whoa, are you okay?" I felt Oliver shift closer to me and put an arm around my neck.

Why the heck was I starting to cry anyways?

"Y-yeah," I stuttered out, staring at my legs because I didn't want him to see my face because I was most definitely _not_ okay. "Just… PMSing."

A total lie, but guys will always leave you alone if you bring up a subject as uncomfortable as that.

Oh, but wait, Oliver is not a guy apparently because he was like, "Oh, do you need anything? Midol?"

Like, what the hell?! He's supposed to just get all grossed out and walk away!

I shook my head in disbelief since my tears had now run dry. "No, I'm fine, Oliver, thanks. Just… are you sure Andrea is right for you?"

There was silence, and I finally dared to look at him, and his lips were in a very tight line. He looked focused—too concentrated for someone like Oliver.

"I don't know," he answered after some time of staring at me. "I just know that I have to give it a shot."

"How do you know this? What if, what if she's _terrible_ to you—"

"You're taking the same risk with Jake, you know," he said, not without bitterness.

"Yeah, but… Oliver, she—I don't think she likes me."

"Are you crazy?" he looked astonished. "Of course she does."

"No. She won't let me spend—never mind."

More silence progressed until Oliver's head lifted slightly, maybe in enlightenment? "Ooooh, wait a minute. You're just afraid I won't spend any more time with you once I'm officially with her."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I just looked the other direction.

"Miley, I'll always have time for you, okay?" one of his hands tugged at my chin to bring me closer to his face. A little too close because my heart did this weird jump thing like he had startled me or something. "You're my best friend. I wouldn't date someone who wouldn't let me see you."

"But she gets jealous," I muttered, staring at his cheeks rather than his eyes. "She'll make you choose one of us eventually… I know it."

"Then I'll choose you, okay?"

I blinked at the delivery of his statement—it was bold and confident, like he was so sure of himself he'd risk his life on it or something.

I found myself smiling at him and leaning my head into the crook of his neck. "Really?"

"Really, Mile."

The comfort of his words somehow set my heart on fire, nothing he'd ever been able to do before, so I knew I had to believe him. I had to trust him because nothing else was telling me not to.

His other arm reached across to my other shoulder so he could give me a real hug. I was somehow more disappointed than usual when he pulled away after a quick two seconds.

"So, you gonna be okay?" he asked me with a genuine smile.

"Yeah," I murmured. "Sorry for freaking out."

"Nah, it's 'ight. Want me to walk you to your dorm? I think I'll just think of something for Andrea myself… don't think it's right for me to put you in that position."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'd feel more porud of myself that way at least. So, c'mon, grab LuLu and we'll get out of here."

And as I did, he swung another arm over my shoulders so I could lean more against him for support. He clutched my arm behind my back softly.

I love Oliver Oken. Even when he's being an asshole, he still always knows the perfect thing to say.

**

* * *

**

**As you can tell, Miley is finalllllly starting to give in to some feelings... :) tee-hee. next chapter is a cute one. I'm sure you can't wait until I update then, right?.... right?**


	11. and this is when a heart breaks

**Woooo update time! =) You should feel lucky.. I really didn't expect to get this out until after the first week of October because I have literally been so busy I haven't had time to read much of anything--like the many fanfic alerts I have going on in my inbox... o_o hope none of you authors attack me. I'm tryinggg, just wait til after October 3rd when my sister's wedding is all done and over with. xD**

**So yeah, this is shorter compared to the previous chapters. But I wanted to end it where it ended.**

**I also feel bad because in my last update I put that this was a "cute" chapter, but I forgot that chapter is not til after this one. Oops. My bad...**

**Disclaimer: Look for my name in the credits of HM. You'll see it. Promise...**

* * *

**HeartWare**  
by Broken Oken

_chapter ten: and this is when a heart breaks_

* * *

The next day arrived so fast it was almost startling. I still had yet to see Lilly, which was really beginning to worry me. I had no true idea of what she was doing all this time out of our room. Andrea was obviously all busy with Oliver, and I had at least _thought_ Lilly seemed as annoyed as I was about their whole deal, so I highly doubt she had been hanging around them this whole time…

I tried not to think about it too much; I figured Lilly would show up eventually, and the whole stupid argument would be resolved as quickly as it had occurred.

I made a decision to call Jake that afternoon and ask him to go out for a walk or something seeing as I have no classes on Thursdays, and I also had a bunch of free time to kill. He seemed reluctant at first—which I had been afraid of—but then he swiftly agreed, saying he wanted to talk to me about something anyways. I can't say I didn't get the notion that there were negative incentives behind this "something" he needed to confront me about, because I most _definitely_ got that feeling as soon as he'd answered the phone with an uncertain, "Uhhh, hello." That tone reminded me that I had completely forgotten all about his odd behavior. I hadn't even had an opportunity to ask Oliver what it all meant. So sadly enough, this put me at a huge disadvantage… I was going to be completely clueless about the whole confrontation's subject.

I chose to go back to my dorm first, however, to check my hair since I had barely even looked at it before class that morning. When I unlocked the door, I was startled to see Lilly Truscott sitting on her bed, absorbed in the television in front of us as she innocently twirled some hair around a finger. The action abruptly ended as her eyes took me in, and she straightened herself, looking out of place.

"Hi," I said nervously, sounding out of breath, and headed straight into the bathroom.

A just-as-hesitant, "Hello," followed behind me, and I gulped, scared that maybe the problem wouldn't be resolved as easily as I'd thought. At least not with as awkward as I was feeling.

"How…are you?" I asked lamely, staring wide-eyed in horror at the thing I had _previously _called a "messy pony-tail" early this morning.

"I'm good… you?"

"Good."

This was getting ridiculous and I had no idea what else to say so I finally just walked out of the bathroom, heaving a gigantic sigh with my shoulders slumped guiltily.

"Listen, I'm sorry—"

"I'm sorry—"

I blinked at the blonde girl no longer on the bed, but now standing directly in front of me. And it appeared that we had both begun our apologies at the same time.

Her mouth tugged into an unsure, tiny smile, causing me to mimic her. Neither of us tried to speak again for a moment, but the silence felt okay. There was something more relieving about that small grin on her face than any amount of words could bring. Her expression alone was causing me to believe that she was sad to have fought with me in the first place.

After a few more seconds passed, I bravely held out an arm. "So… friends? Civil roommates at the least?"

Lilly eyed it amusedly before clasping her hand into mine, similar to when we had first met. "I'd prefer friends."

I giggled and felt truly happy in my dorm room for the first time in the last two days.

"I didn't mean anything I said," she said softly, and my giggling ended.

"Oh, it's okay, Lilly… I was… I was being emo."

She smiled. "Maybe. But I was being harsh. I don't know what it's like to have a guy as a best friend… I misunderstood things, I guess. And if you swear there's no feelings there, I'll believe you."

I only smiled back because for some reason my brain wasn't allowing me to confirm her statement in voice form. It was like a giant part of my mind was wildly yelling at me to tell her that there _were _feelings involved… but I don't understand why. I don't see Oliver as boyfriend material. The thought of kissing him makes me wanna throw up a little…

…somehow only a little. It used to be a lot. But at least I still wanna throw up. That's good, right?

Anyways, I told Lilly that I had to go meet with Jake, and she nodded me off, claiming there was gonna be a marathon of _Jayy TV_ on today, so she was set for the rest of the day.

* * *

When I met Jake down at the café, I threw one of my most charming warm smiles at him, expecting something similar in return. However, he just did this millisecond long grin thing and then that turned wholly serious as we began walking towards the exit doors. I frowned and followed him after—not liking that he didn't offer to hold my hand or anything. I was beginning to feel _extremely_ worried about the future conversation.

"Jake, what's wrong?" I asked softly once we were outside, and he stopped walking to turn around and face me with an emotionless face.

"You tell me," he said oddly.

"What? Nothing's wrong. You're the one acting funny all week."

"I'm the one acting funny… right," he turned his head a little away from me. "Miley, I need to ask you something."

"Umm, alright," I said cautiously. I couldn't think of anything he might ask me that would be of negative use right now. What was this all about?

For a moment there was silence, and I thought that maybe he was going to tackle me with his arms and be like, "Just kidding!" or something, but instead I was met with a stone cold face, ridden with suspicion—an expression I _was_ familiar with.

"Oliver." And that was all that he said to me. But it was enough. I knew what this meant. I couldn't play dumb about it. Jake had never really put much effort forth to talk about Oliver with me. He always seemed to trust me with him—never once batted an eye if I said I was texting him when I was with him. Nothing like that. But his eyes… they seemed totally distrusting now. I felt hurt. _Intimidated_.

"My best friend," I stated slowly.

Unfortunately Jake kept his eyes squinted. "No. There is something you're not telling me."

"What? No there isn't," I said, cocking my head a little.

"Are you cheating on me?" he asked bluntly, and my confusion immediately transformed into anger.

"No!" I shouted, wanting to hit him, but restraining myself.

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes!" I snapped back. "Jake, what the hell? Where is this coming from?"

"Oh, c'mon, Miley. All you ever talk about is Oliver anymore. Oliver or Andrea. You're insanely jealous. And you weren't at first. Something has happened between you guys."

"No there hasn't!" I argued.

"Stop lying!"

"Stop being a dick!"

He looked appalled at my vocabulary and took a step closer to me. "Listen, Miley. I really, _really_ like you. I just don't know if you really, _really_ like me back. All you ever talk about is Oliver. It's never about me. I want to be talked about… I want to sound like something amazing like the way you talk about him."

A few tears randomly stung my eyes. I didn't like fighting with anyone, and I could barely make sense of anything coming out of his mouth, and at the moment, I wasn't entirely sure if the outcome of this argument was going to be pretty. Jake wasn't just a friend—he was a _boy_friend. It wasn't like fighting with Lilly. When it's over with a boyfriend, it's rare to go back to being friends… I didn't want to lose him. Not yet.

I wasn't sure if he was glaring anymore; my vision was getting kinda blurry, but he did sound less angry and more concerned… almost heartbroken?

"I'm sorry," I choked. "I like you, Jake. So much."

"Do you love me?"

I blinked and more tears ran down my cheeks. Did I love Jake?

_No._

The almost immediate reply in my head frightened me. It almost sounded like… I didn't _care_ if I loved him or not. Like I didn't ever want to, and had no intention of doing it. What the hell did that mean? He'd done nothing wrong so far… I could love him. I'm very capable of loving someone like Jake.

"…y-yes," I forced myself to say anyway, and his lips pressed into mine. He kissed me fiercely and I struggled to kiss him back, but I felt guilty. Very guilty. I was lying—and I think only to make him feel better. What was wrong with me?

His mouth left mine, and he was staring intensely down at me, his forehead resting against mine. "I love you, too, Miley. Let's… go back inside."

I had never wanted to agree to something more. Being outside in front of all of those people was making me feel horrible. I had just given anyone watching the best acting performance of my life. I had kissed Jake and for once, felt _nothing_. I had told him I loved him. But I don't. I _don't_ love Jake Ryan.

We walked inside, and he intertwined his fingers into mine. I frowned slightly, but quickly smiled when he looked at me. This was not good. Not even his hand was doing anything to me.

I didn't realize how far we had walked until we were standing in front of Jake's dorm room. He unlocked the door, and I went inside, Jake's footsteps proceeding after me. Immediately I noticed that the room was empty.

"Wh—" I stopped myself at once. I had been about to ask where Oliver was. But that would _not_ be a good idea given the previous conversation.

Jake answered anyways, maybe a little bitterly, "With Andrea, I think."

Something pinched my heart at this bit of information.

"Figures." I turned around to face Jake again, and he stepped closer to me, wrapping his arms around my waist securely.

I was suddenly very aware that we were alone. And that I had told him I loved him.

That pinch in my heart disappeared. I now felt sick. _Disgusted_. He wouldn't—_would he?_

When Jake began kissing my neck, I knew I was done for. I could feel the heat in his breath—_he wanted me_. The way his fingers were toying around the loops of my jeans… every way he was touching me, I just knew what he was thinking. He was going to try. But was I going to let him?

_You don't love him, Miley. You don't love him._

I shut my eyes tightly and kissed the side of Jake's face forcefully.

_You should. Just do it, Miley. He's a nice guy. He's good for your first time…_

One of Jake's hands snaked down the backside of my jeans.

_But you don't love him. You really don't love him._

The hand plunged deeper—through my underwear now. He was touching my skin.

_Oh, c'mon… you gotta get it over sometime, and he's nice. He'd be understanding if it hurts. He wouldn't be turned off if you think it's too painful._

His lips were attacking my collarbone now. I didn't feel well. I felt sick and dizzy, and also like throwing up. But maybe that was just nerves. I've gotta do this.

_NO. YOU PROMISED OLIVER. YOU PROMISED HIM._

And all at once I flew off of him, throwing my arms madly. Jake looked just as alarmed as I probably felt.

"Wh-what? What's wrong?" he asked.

I was shaking. "I can't."

"Can't—?"

"Do… that. Not with you. I promised someone… Oliver—"

"You promised you'd have sex with him first?" Jake immediately thundered his conclusion, and I waved my arms frantically around again.

"No, it's not—"

"No, no, I'm through with this. You're in love with him, Miley. Just leave. I can't compete with this."

The abrupt tears arrived again as I ran towards him. "Jake—no—I don't love him—"

"I don't wanna hear this. Leave." He pointed at the door.

"But I don't—I—Jake—"

"GET OUT!"

As if I wasn't crying hard enough by then, his volume change broke me more and I began bawling. I scurried towards the exit, covering my face with one hand and swinging the door open with the other.

I ran and ran and ran until I was back at my dorm.

I could barely get my key out of my purse to unlock it, I was so distraught and heartbroken. I got inside, feeling more of me disintegrate when I realized Lilly was not here as she said she would be. I was alone. I didn't want to be alone. I wanted someone. I wanted Lilly…

I wanted _Oliver_.

Dialing his number, I flew onto my bed, sobbing uncontrollably. The damn ring went on for hours it seemed until I heard his voice.

"_Hello?"_

"Oliver, he, he," I hiccupped, "_Jake_—"

"Actually, I'm not here right now. Haaa, gotcha! But if you just leave me a message, I'll get right back to ya. Peace!"

There was a distinct beep after that, and I had stopped crying for that millisecond in disbelief. My heart must've busted into another couple thousand pieces at being tricked into thinking I wasn't going to be alone after all.

I breathed heavily into the phone, trying to force a sentence out of my lips. But nothing was coming. I couldn't really process what I was doing calling him anymore.

After about ten seconds, I finally whispered, "Hey…call me….bye," and hung up. It was the shortest voicemail I'd ever left Oliver before in my life, but I think it got straight to the point. He would know that me not rambling meant I was upset and possibly crying, which I still was doing at that time.

Lilly didn't show up the rest of the night.

Jake didn't bother calling or anything to talk about what had happened between us, and not to try to get me back.

But worst of all, Oliver never returned any of my calls or texts.

I was alone.

And I hated it.

* * *

Normally when I'm upset I don't go around looking for people. I call them, and they come to me. Because it makes sense that way—I feel broken, and a broken person shouldn't go walking around when they can't even function properly. People need to find me and put me back together, to fix me.

But for some reason, for the first time in my life, I began to go look for someone this time. I was crying and actually looking for someone. I know I looked stupid and pathetic, and a downright horrible mess, but I needed someone. A crying shoulder. Even if they couldn't understand my speech through the heavy sobbing. I just wanted someone to care enough to listen—to be there—they didn't have to say a word. I just wanted someone's presence… and a hug wouldn't be too bad either.

I found myself in the elevator on the way down to the cafe. I had figured since it was almost dinnertime, Oliver would be in there—and maybe with Andrea, but who cares—and as much as the kid loves to eat, he has to care about me more. At least enough to drop his fork and come hug me and comfort me…

Andrea would just have to get over it. He's my best friend. I'm not losing him, too.

I waited in sniffles for the elevator to drop. It seemed to take forever. I was thankful I was the only one in it for once, something that seemed hard to avoid with a university as big as the one we were all attending.

A soft ding went off to tell me the set floor had been reached, and I lifted my head warily as the doors opened.

But immediately I felt like closing them.

Down the hall, just a decent ways away enough for me to still see, was Oliver and Andrea.

I had been there just in time to see him slowly lean in and kiss her.

He was kissing her. They were official.

_Dating._

I punched the seventh floor button so fast I'd hit three other buttons in the process. The tears were now raining down even more. I could not handle this right now. I really was alone. Alone. Oliver had Andrea now. I knew it was going to happen, but for some reason, I was way more upset about it than I thought I would be. Perhaps it was the fact that I already felt so horrible from Jake that this bothered me more than it should have.

The doors were not closing quick enough. In seconds Oliver could look over Andrea's shoulder and see me standing there. And I didn't want him to see me now. I didn't want to see him now. And definitely not her. I could barely believe my thoughts at the moment:

_Andrea is stealing him. I had him first. Maybe Lilly's right. Maybe he does love me._

I wanted to scream that I would think about this; I was obviously still dizzy and disoriented from the break-up. I felt so screwed up.

The doors closed just as Oliver pulled away from Andrea. I was safe…

So why did I feel so in danger?

My knees, as if they weren't weak enough, crumpled until I was sitting in the elevator. It began its ascend as I sat there, hugging my knees because they were the only thing I could hold onto at the moment. And at this point I truly didn't care if anyone else came in. I wasn't moving. Not for a long time. I'm dysfunctional.

This is why you don't go looking for comfort—you just feel worse…

_…you see worse…_

* * *

I woke up.

I don't know how I got there, but I woke up at precisely 2:14 a.m. in my dorm, tucked into my bed's covers. I was frightened at how this could have happened—someone would have had to transport me here, and without my knowing so. What if someone had put the date rape drug in my glass of water earlier? I sat wide-awake, blinking slowly because what was left of my mascara had clamped my eyelids shut—they were stuck to each other. I looked to the right and surprisingly saw Lilly fast asleep on her own bed, with an arm hanging over the side and her mouth wide open. Normally I probably would've laughed, but I felt anything but entertainment… I was cold and confused. How had I gotten here?

I stepped out of bed slowly, careful not to wake Lilly as I made my way into the bathroom.

I was stunned to see a small post-it note stuck to the mirror. Grabbing a hold of it harshly, I held it closely to my face to read the black sharpie letters written on it.

_"Hope you're okay. Call me. Love, Oliver."_

Now I was angry. I growled at the note and began to rip it up into tiny yellow shreds. He was the one who took me here? This was maddening. I couldn't stand him at the moment—which, let's face it, doesn't make too much sense since he hasn't done anything but kiss Andrea unknowingly in front of me—and he had been the one to deliver me here? What the fuck? Had I fallen asleep in the elevator? Was that where they even found me?

There wasn't much else I could think this late—or early, I guess—so I stomped my way back into my bed. I would get my answers in the daylight. And they better be good ones.

* * *

There was something grabbing me by the ankle.

I flew upwards, realizing instantly I had fallen asleep sideways on my bed, and that Oliver was somehow in my room, standing at the end of the covers, currently holding my left foot up innocently.

"What the hell are you doing?" I yelled at him, yanking my foot away out of his hands, and he merely grinned at me, like there was some kind of reason to be happy right now. In fact, he looked almost insanely cheerful.

"Waking you up," he replied casually.

"Well, go away!" I yelled. "I don't want to talk to you right now."

He suddenly frowned. "Why not?"

"For your information, I'm…" the words choked me before I could continue. And the tears began cascading down before I could stop them.

"Miley? Miley, what's wrong?" Oliver's body and face was fading from my tears, but I could still vaguely see his form moving nearer to me, and then his arms were suddenly circled around my own. I felt my body go upwards; I was being lifted up and set onto his lap. He was cradling me. Like a child. He'd never done anything like this before, and it seemed to make me feel so much better when normally if he ever tried picking me up like this, I would've mauled his face with my nails already.

But I sobbed instead. I was sobbing into his clean white shirt, feeling slightly guilty to let myself stain it with all of my dark make-up. But he didn't seem to care because he kept a hold of me tightly. And I felt so safe. So warm…

And I had unexpectedly stopped crying. But I didn't move or open my eyes. I didn't want to. I wanted him to still think I was upset, still so upset that I needed the cradling and consoling. I wanted to remain there in his arms. I never wanted to be out of them. It was the strangest feeling.

He rubbed my back so comfortingly, and I remained quiet and still. There wasn't any shaking anymore. Without thinking much about it, I raised my head from his chest. His hug sufficiently loosened at the action, and almost immediately I wanted to put my head back down just so he'd hold me tighter again.

But it was lost, and I grew suddenly afraid as my vision became clear again. The room looked different. Or, maybe it was Oliver. I almost felt drugged—he didn't really look like Oliver at all. His eyes were their typical brown—but sparkled or something… like they were drawing me in. They looked saddened and angry, and I hadn't noticed until the last moment that I had been moving closer towards his face the whole time. What was this? Was there a magnet on his nose I wasn't aware of?

There came a whisper of something sounding familiar to my name. I think it came from Oliver's lips—but I was not looking at them. I was still entranced by the miraculous color of his eyes. They were so bright and so dark at the same time.

Before much registration had taken place, I witnessed his eyes shutting slowly, and the grip around my back had tightened again. The soothing warmth returned and I smiled to myself until I finally realized what was going on.

There was no mistaking it this time.

_Oliver was going to kiss me._

He was so close that he could not make up some lame excuse of inspecting a zit, or a fallen eyelash on my cheek, so I knew that was the only last logical thing he could be doing. And somehow, I was not pulling away. I liked this position we were in—I felt calm and nice and… and warm. I couldn't even remember what he was doing here in the first place.

So, I couldn't believe it when it happened, but I…

I let him do it.

His lips wandered curiously onto my own, and surprisingly, it was not warmth that came to me, but a cold… empty feeling. Like we weren't supposed to be kissing. My mind struggled to come up for an explanation of this when I realized Oliver wasn't some dude I liked—he was Oliver, my best fucking friend in the world, and I was just sitting here allowing him to cross territory you couldn't undo.

I barely kissed back. I felt so sick to my stomach. Was this really happening? Why was I doing this?

Cautiously he pulled me closer, and again, the kissing felt empty. He'd yet to place his tongue in my mouth, and for that I was thankful. This was horrible. What was I doing?! I needed to pull away, but I couldn't. I couldn't escape.

And for some reason, I didn't want to escape. Even though it felt one hundred percent wrong. So I did the only thing I could think of and wrapped my arms around his neck to get him closer to me rather than vice versa.

I kissed him harder and harder until I could barely breathe. I was panting heavily, trying not to think about what was going to happen when this stopped.

Then he was pushing me… pushing me down. I knew exactly what this meant. I lowered myself down onto the bed so that he climbed on top of me. I lifted my hand to mess it through his dark hair when something very strange happened. As my hand made contact with his hair, it wasn't soft. In fact, it almost seemed like metal, and when I had quickly put my hand there, it hurt. It stung like I had just jammed my finger into something, and suddenly; there was a flash of colors…

_…and I awoke._

I was laying in my head, and my hand had somehow harshly collided against the wall beside my bed.

I blinked rapidly, and my heart leapt once I looked at the clock.

5:43 a.m.

Lilly was still asleep next to me, and now my heart's beating increased tenfold as it all sunk in.

For the millionth time in my entire life, I wanted to go back to sleep and continue my dream.

But for the first time in my entire life… this dream had been of kissing Oliver Oken.

* * *

**DUN DUN DUNNNN... sorta. More of a good DUN DUN DUNNNN I guess. :)**

**woooo! next chapter FERSURE is the cute one. I won't break my promise this time, k?**


	12. the empire state building of slides

**I know it's taken me awhile, and I'm sorry. October is too hectic for me to handle. Actually, just the fall in general. Hopefully winter offers more writing time since I hate the snow and being outdoors in 30 below weather. :D**

**I hope you guys like this one. I'm kinda fond of it for some reason... it was one of the first things I've written for this story. :p**

**Disclaimer: HEARTWARE IS MINEEEEEE. It's my baby. K? But Hannah Montana is not. I am not it's baby daddy... er, mommy.**

* * *

**HeartWare  
**by Broken Oken

_chapter eleven: the empire state building of slides_

* * *

Alarm clocks aren't the only things capable of waking me in the morning. What really stirred me from my wonderful sleep that day was definitely causing a lot more noise… _and_ physical irritation. My shoulders had hands on them, each softly shaking me, and a whisper of a voice chanting, "_Miley_," repetitively. I groaned and pulled the covers back over my head. I _so_ was not in the mood for anyone to be bothering me. Not like there was anyone worth talking to at this place anymore after yesterday… not to mention, my dreams truly _piss me off_…

"Miley, wake up," the voice continued to say through my pink sheets, only louder, and I felt cold instantly enwrap me. What the—oh my _God_, the sheets had been taken from me! This intruder sure had a lot of nerve. I shivered instantly, shielding myself as best as I could with my arms.

"_Go awayyyy_," I moaned, stuffing my face further into the pillow.

"Hey—you're still in your clothes from last night?"

My eyes popped open, and I jumped to sit upright on my bed. And very strangely enough, just as in my dream, Oliver was standing there across from me, but now he was looking me up and down curiously. Warmth embedded in my cheeks—I swear it sort of looked like he was _checking me out_. But, logically, that wouldn't make much sense, since in the morning I always resembled a bed-headed monster. He would know, too; he's seen me like this a million times. And, not to mention, after crying myself to sleep last night, I was prone to looking even more terrifying.

"Oliver?" I questioned through the messy veil that was my bushel of hair.

He laughed a little, his footsteps creaking as he stepped forward, using a hand to wipe the hair out of my face. I twitched a little uncomfortably at the action, and then Oliver's smiling face turned grim.

"Miley, are you okay?" He blinked rapidly in a puzzled sort of way as he awaited my explanation as I simply stared at him. I hadn't noticed until then, but my window had at some point been opened, and the curtains were drawn back to create a blinding light onto the area around my bed…

And trust me at this random moment in time to suddenly realize his eyes are definitely prettier in the sunlight. What the hell? This was absolutely ridiculous.

I didn't know how to answer Oliver at first. It had hit me that I had been bawling my eyes out the night before with no one whatsoever to turn to. And _Oliver _wasn't there except to just carry me to my room. _Oliver_ had promised me he'd be here for me no matter what, and _Oliver_ had totally just broken that very promise. Did _Oliver_ even deserve to hear my heartbroken self right now?

"Maybe," I said coldly after some time, snatching back my blankets to put over myself, though I'm not sure why when I wasn't even cold anymore. "How'd you get in here?"

"Lilly leant me her key." He carefully sat himself down on the bed next to me then, and I noticed he never broke eye contact. I still can't stop looking at those dumb eyes of his. Why, I have no idea. They look the same as always, only more… shiny?

"I got your voicemail last night, but I couldn't understand it. I tried calling, too, but you never answered."

_Uh huh, likely story, asshole,_ I thought as I turned to my phone on my nightstand to check.

Um, wait.

_Six New Text Messages_. Okay… so what? He still didn't call.

_Three New Voicemails_. Um… still…

Oh, wow.

_12 Missed Calls – _Oliver, Oliver, Oliver, Oliver, Oliver, Oliver, Oliver, Oliver, Oliver, Oliver, Oliver, Oliver.

So maybe he _had_ tried to comfort me… what was I doing? Sleeping?

Oh yeah, duh. He found me in the elevator.

"Geez, run up a phone bill much?" was all I could think of to mutter.

"You know just as well as I do that I get free minutes after nine," he told me with a very serious-ish tone. "And even if they _weren't_ free, you'd still have just as much crap from me on there. So, tell me now, what happened?"

I sighed and toyed with one of my chaotic curls. "Jake…"

"Jake what? He didn't force you into anything, did he?" I looked up at him in alarm at that, and his face became sour. "_Oh my God,_ I'm going to kick his a—"

"Oliver! He didn't force me into—anything!"

"Then what'd he do!?"

All at once my dry eyes felt wet. I had no idea how it happened, but I was now aware I was crying all over again. Somehow I now couldn't even speak. Oliver, however, I guess, didn't need to hear anything else; he just wrapped a protective arm around my shoulders, and brought me close, allowing me to bury my face into his collarbone. He must've said, "_Shh, Miles, it's gonna be okay, it's gonna be okay_," at least a hundred times before I finally started to calm myself. Nonetheless, I still didn't believe him—just saying Jake's name was like a stab to the heart.

When I was relaxed enough to remove my head from his shoulder, I lifted it to meet more of his gaze. And that was precisely when a certain image etched into my head.

_We had kissed in my dream last night. _I had almost forgotten.

The picture of his lips coming onto mine burned my cheeks, and I hurriedly pushed myself away from him to stand up. Oliver, of course, grew concerned, and was about to open his mouth, when I found myself stopping him.

"Sorry, I just… bathroom." I needed to get away from him immediately so I high-tailed it to the place I'd specified, not bothering to look back at him once as I did so. Arriving inside the enclosed room at last, I pushed my back against the door and slid all the way down to the tiled floor.

Oh my _God_. I had a dream that Oliver and I… _kissed_. What the _hell_ did that mean? Did I want to kiss Oliver? Um, _no!_ But, in the dream… it wasn't really _that_ gross. It was all, like, _sorta_ normal and stuff. Hence why it was a dream. In real life, kissing Oliver would not be that simple. It would be complex. It would go against everything I've spent my entire life trying to prove to the world—that a guy and girl can just remain best friends, and nothing more.

I can dream about kissing my best friend. There is no rule against that. Especially since it meant nothing. I didn't really feel anything. I kind of wanted to. Shit. What does that even mean—

"Miley, you okay in there?" I heard Oliver call worriedly, and not knowing what else to do, I hastily reached over to flush the toilet when I hadn't even done anything in it.

"Um, yeah, just had to um, tinkle."

Wow, Miley. You totally just said that—_out loud_, by the way.

_Wait a second, why is that even embarrassing in the first place? You've done and said so many worse things before. He's your best friend. He knows everything. He doesn't care if you had to "tinkle"._

So why is my face so freaking _hot???_

I quickly looked into the mirror above the sink to notice that my reflection was, indeed, blushing. Oh, no. I could _not_ go blushing around Oliver. _Oooooh no_. That would be _so_ not good. That would imply things. Like, like, like… _feelings_. Of the more-than-friends variety… which I don't have.

Yes, Miley, you totally _don't_ have feelings for the boy you last night in your dreams, completely made out with. That sounds about right. God, I am so messed up. Did I eat anything strange before bed or something?

No, but I did get dumped. Maybe that was it?

Counting to ten in my head, I eased open the door. I had to act like I wasn't feeling anything new. AND I'M TOTALLY NOT, BY THE WAY. Everything is fine, perfectly normal, wonderful even—

Until I opened that door to see Oliver standing there, raising his eyebrows, and my stomach twisted into about a million different knots in about ten different directions (a way it's never reacted before), so I started to fall over, and he ended up catching me with his, erm, _strong_ arms, thus, creating a million more different knots. _Holy hell.  
_  
"Miley, whoa," he said, ironically speaking what I was thinking, as he held me there. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," I murmured against his chest. "Just… heartache…"

_Or something like that_, my mind sneered.

"Jake broke up with you, didn't he?" he asked, not releasing his awkward hold on my body. Not that I was complaining. I mean… I just—I need to be held, okay? I am unstable. Yeah.

"You say that like you're unsurprised."

Finally he lifted me up from under my armpits and placed me on my feet. His hands moved to my shoulders, and unfortunately for my twisting stomach, his eyes moved directly into mine.

"Well, I know Miley Stewart doesn't cry too often, and I knew you liked him a bunch. I'm not unsurprised. I just guessed really… throwing it out there… I don't know, maybe it was some kind of wishful thinking." His face barely twitched at his last line, and he briskly continued, "I mean, I, uh, I-I just didn't think he was good for you. Didn't seem right in my opinion."

I sniffled as I felt more tears threatening at my eyes. I was so confused right now about my dumb stomach, and also heartbroken about Jake, that I had no idea what else to do _but_ cry. So I decided to ask, against my better judgment, for the one thing that always seemed to make things better.

"Oliver… I just… need another hug."

I don't think even a second passed as he brought me back into his arms. My stomach lurched again, but I didn't care or take the time in my head to analyze the dumb feeling. I just needed a hug, alright? It just came as an added bonus that the hug smelt so… so… _good_…

Oliver suddenly laughed, scaring me half out of my mind, and I jerked my head upward. "What?"

"I smell good, huh?"

Instantly I put my face back down to hide its flushing state. _Did I say that out loud?_

"Um, I don't know, I guess, yeah," I said awkwardly, confusing myself more in the process of doing so. "Er, leave me alone, I'm crying here."

He chuckled again, and pulled me in nearer to himself. A smile tugged at my lips.

"Oliver, can we… get out of here? I think I need fresh air. I'm not thinking clearly."

"You're telling me," he agreed, completely clueless about why I _really_ wasn't thinking clearly, and that I personally thought being outside would get rid of his miraculous scent. "I don't think you've ever complimented my scent before. It's usually, '_Oh my God, Oliver, when's the last time you showered? 1999?_'"

His horrible impression of my voice triggered me to hit him lightly. "Shut up." I started to head for the door, when I heard Oliver call my name. "What?"

"You're kinda still in your break-up clothes," he said, tilting his head.

I looked down at myself. "Oh, right. Here, just a second, let me change."

As I rushed into my closet to pull out some random clothes, and into the bathroom to put them on, I heard Oliver say, "I think I know where we're going, too."

"Oh, really? Where's that?"

* * *

The park was beautiful. Like, crazy beautiful. The sun was hitting the grass and playground _just _right. There was a metallic glint off the swings, and light peeked through branches of green-leaved trees. I would've loved to have my camera. I would've loved to just walk around and simply enjoy Mother Nature, too…

…but _Oliver_ didn't just want us to walk around. He was all, "That's a boring idea," because he is such a boy it drives me nuts.

He wanted us to actually _play_ on the playground there. I couldn't believe his childishness still existed in his built, I mean… _adult_ body. But I really couldn't complain. I really just needed fresh air, and this was one way of getting it. But mainly, I was too worn out to argue with him today.

Pulling me by the arm, Oliver ushered me over to a ladder. I examined it critically, observing the giant red slide connected to it.

"Go up," the stupid boy commanded, stupid being the correct adjective since he knows about my height phobia.

"No thank you." I started to march away when he irritatingly tugged me back towards it.

"I _said_ go up."

I have no idea why he thought saying it slower would make it sound like a better idea.

"I don't like heights, you know this," I complained, still not budging.

"You're conquering your fear today, I've decided."

I looked at him with an eyebrow raised. "_You've_ decided? I don't think it's up to _you_."

He smirked. Oh, _yay_, here comes left field or some terribly perverted comment of his.

"I'll bet you twenty bucks you won't do it."

_…or a bet?_

"Twenty bucks?" I fidgeted, biting my lip as I stared at the ladder before me. It must've been, like, twenty feet high or something… a buck for every foot I climbed…? Probably not… When I look at tall things, they seem to appear a thousand feet higher than what they actually are…

"I don't know..."

He reached into his jeans pocket and then actually pulled out a twenty-dollar bill, waving it in my face tauntingly. "Mmm, smells like _caaaasshhhh_!"

I snarled. "Fine, I'll go down the stupid freaking slide."

He grinned (evilly, of course) and shoved it back into his pocket. There was a slight chance it might be staying there, I was afraid. But I sighed and grabbed myself steadily onto the ladder anyways, knowing he'd probably just throw me up there if I declined to go along with this crazy plan of his. And I don't like being thrown by Oliver because he is not a nice thrower. Especially not in pools. Hmm… Oliver in a pool… interesting…

_FOCUS._

After I shook my head and had a good hold onto the ladder, I swallowed some air. _Okay. That part wasn't so bad._ Taking another giant, deep breath, I began my climb, failing at not noticing how badly I was shaking.

_Don't look down, Miley, don't look down…_

"You okay?" I heard Oliver call below me, and like an idiot, I decided to glance down to see him. Seriously, was I _not_ just telling myself _not_ to look down?!

And let me tell you, he was like… years away.

_Oh my God_. I couldn't do this. So, I did the only logical thing I could think of, which was to shut my eyes.

"Oliver!" I cried. "I'm stuck!"

"No, you're not! Keep going!"

I stupidly looked down again and suddenly felt nauseous. "I can't!"

"You can do it, Miles, just—"

"OLIVER OKEN, GET ME OFF THIS FUCKING LADDER, OR I'LL FUCKING SCREAM!"

"Miley, stop being dramatic—"

"AAAAAAAHHHH!!!" I shrieked as loud as I could possibly shriek, and all of a sudden I felt someone else's weight balance on the ladder beneath me. I glanced down worriedly to see Oliver had joined me. He, on the other hand, looked peeved.

"God, Miley, it's just a slide," he said as he climbed up towards me.

"Just a slide?" I repeated, astounded. "This is like, the _Empire State Building_ of slides."

He approached at the step directly below mine and came to a halt, pressing a hand against my back. _OOOOKAY._ That should not have felt so funny. I shook violently as my stomach did another loop.

"Just breathe," he said coolly. "Or you're never gonna get down."

I began to whine. "Oliver, I don't like this. I can't move."

"You _are_ going to move," he told me fiercely. "_Up_."

_That_ was his brilliant plan?! He wasn't going to guide me down the dumb ladder?!

"Are you kidding me?" I hissed at him. "I just told you there is no way I'm going to do this!"

"Miley, nothing bad is going to happen to you!" he shouted angrily. "I'm right here behind you. If you fall, I'm going to catch you. Just trust me!"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I'm trying to help you." He put his hand on my back again, this time pressing it slightly. I have no idea how he thinks that _helps_ my shaking problem, by the way. Because my shaking only intensifies, for some reason, whenever he lays a finger on me.

"Now, go up. And don't look down. That was your first mistake."

"Ya think?!"

"_Go_."

I mumbled to myself as I unsteadily moved further up the ladder. I got maybe two or three more up when I stopped again, about eight or so steps away from reaching the top. I so could not do this. I was totally going to fall and kill myself.

"Miley, c'mon," Oliver urged behind me like this was as easy as pie.

"But, I-I-I-I'm going to trip. One of these steps is going to be slippery, and I'm going to slip, and then—"

"Miley!" Oliver whisper yelled in my ear, and I tensed. "You can do this. I'm _right here_."

And quite suddenly, his hand moved to an area on my waist, and as the funny feeling registered with his touch, I lost a little balance, feeling my foot slip underneath me. But instead of collapsing into the ground or something, Oliver pushed upwards with his hand still on my back, and I regained posture.

"Seriously, just relax!" he said, sounding astonished.

Like, _whatever_! How can I relax when he keeps freaking touching me and making me feel all weird and stuff?! _God._

In frustration, I finally propelled myself to the top of the ladder, meaning, the top of the slide. I breathed heavily as I got there, getting myself into a sitting position as soon as I could. How had I gotten up here in the first place? And why wasn't I happy about it?!

Oh yes, that's right, I still had the actual _slide_ to do. I glared at it. It was pretty much a mega-monster slide with its hugeness and its multiple giant curving tunnels.

How annoying. The perfect picture of my stomach in its current state.

"Now, I'm going to go down the ladder, Miles," I heard Oliver say from behind me, and I snapped my neck around in alarm to see his head popped up just above the top step. "Don't worry!" he continued, seeing my face all freaked out and everything. "I'm going to be at the bottom of the slide waiting for you. All there's left to do is slide. You're already ninety percent done."

"But, Oliver! No! Don't go!" I pleaded but his head disappeared and his footsteps clanked down the ladder. Oh, freaking _beautiful_. He was going to _pay_. And I don't mean the twenty bucks either.

That was really my only motivation right now. The money… and hurting Oliver as soon as I was off this thing. I stared at the opening of the slide in determination. I mean, I had to go down it. There was no way I was going back down that crazy ladder unless Oliver was carrying me down it. Which would be physically impossible without practically killing ourselves, so I'm unfortunately back to the slide idea.

I scooted forward and took a deep breath. Well. Here goes nothing.

… and really, it _was_ nothing. I know, kinda shocking, right? The ride was so fast I could barely remember anything except the rush of the tube's red color surrounding me, and my hair getting all messed up from the air flying through it.

And just like he said he would be, Oliver was at the end of it, smiling proudly like a parent to their daughter when he saw me.

"You did it, Miles!" he said, opening his arms like I was going to leap into them.

Uh huh. Yeah. _Right_.

I jumped out of the slide and began to angrily stomp away. And what the heck, he ran after me. Couldn't he get the message? That I _didn't_ wanna look at his face right now?

"Hey! What's the problem now?" he was suddenly blocking my path, and I glared.

Unfortunately, when you're Oliver Oken, a glare does not tell you anything. So I was enforced to explain myself.

"What the heck were you thinking, making me do that? That was the scariest thing of my life, and you made me do it! On a day when I'm supposed to be getting cheered up, thank you very much!"

"I thought conquering a fear would cheer you up?"

_What?_ That was the dumbest thing I've ever heard!

"Um, well, it didn't. Now I'm mad at both you _and_ Jake."

He glowered, and placed his hands on my shoulders again. God, why does he keep doing that?

"Miley, wanna know why I did that? Like, for real?"

"That'd be nice," I barked.

He sighed. "I wanted to show you that you are capable of getting through things. You looked so heartbroken because of Jake, and I wanted to show you that no matter how hard it is, you can do it and get through it. Because you're that kind of a girl, Miley. You can do anything when you put your mind to it. It just takes a little prodding."

I didn't want to smile.

But I did anyways.

"…Really?"

"Yes, really," he was smiling now, too, looking almost relieved that I hadn't hit him or yelled at him again. "You don't realize how incredible you are, Miles. You can't let one stupid guy make you feel so worthless. I mean, you just conquered the 'Empire State Building of slides'. You can do _anything_."

I shuffled my feet around. Wow. Oliver being this sweet rarely happens. I wasn't totally sure of what I should say. I hated hugging people when you're supposed to be acting like you're mad at them—I'm stubborn like that.

"Oh… well… fine, I guess that deserves a hug, come here!" I extended my arms and jumped at him, feeling my smile practically break my cheekbones as he squeezed me back.

I love how I am always so flipping mad at him, and then within seconds, I want to give him the biggest embrace the world has ever seen. I don't know how he always manages to know the right words to say, and it's always right before I'm about to throw a rock at his head, too. Maybe he's psychic, I don't know.

I enjoyed his incredible smell once again as it laced into my nostrils while I snuggled my nose into his hoody. My stomach was feeling all sorts of loop-dee-loops and knots, like the slide I'd just ridden, but these loops suddenly reminded me of a feeling much more familiar…

…_butterflies_.

I panicked inwardly. My heart was beating way out of control. This, this… This didn't mean I _liked_ Oliver, right? I mean, he's _Oliver_!

Oh my _God_, why doesn't that sound like a bad idea anymore? Why does liking Oliver as more than a friend sound… _good_ right now?!?

I looked up at him in alarm since my heart didn't seem to be rejecting the thought of him as a boyfriend like it used to. He smiled toothily down at me, and I almost wanted to throw up. In a… positive kind of way? And his eyes… so _brown_… Not poop-colored… And I've always been such a _sucker_ for brown eyes…

"By the way, Miles, here's your twenty bucks."

My trance was broken as he pried out the bill from his pocket. I didn't want to take it, but I knew he'd make me anyways, so, saving us from another brutal disagreement, I snatched it away triumphantly.

"You know, you basically let me win this," I told him with a shy grin.

"I know. But how else are you going to pay for the three double chocolate fudge cookie dough strawberry whatever-you-want ice cream cartons you're going to chow down on tonight?"

I stared at him in confusion.

"You know, you girls and your broken heart fixtures. Ice cream, right? The more fattening, the better the cure?"

I giggled and tackled him with another hug. He froze like he was surprised and then graciously accepted it.

"Oliver, I have _no_ idea what I'd do without you."

He laughed. "Be twenty dollars less richer?"

"Something like that."

And as we stood there in our embrace, and the butterflies danced about in my stomach, I realized that I'd never spoken truer words. I truly _didn't_ have any idea what I'd do without him. I couldn't even _imagine_ a day without him by my side. When I get married, I want him to be right next to me, as one of my "bridesmaids" or something… except, he's a guy, so I don't know how that'd work…

And that was when that image transformed into something else.

I didn't want him as a bridesmaid.

I pictured him in my wedding, yes, but…

Not as my _husband-to-be._

With another few new butterflies at the thought, I slowly nestled my head back down against his chest. I wasn't… _well_… So maybe it was true after all. How had I not known? I _was _stupid? I _was _jealous? I _was_ oblivious? _All this time? _How long had I really felt this way? Just these past weeks? Or had I been ignoring this feeling _all my life_?

The answers my brain was coming up with her terrifying… stunning even…

…. _Maybe everyone's been right all along_…

Oliver moved his head, peeking at me from my forehead. "I love ya, Miles. I know I'm a major pain in the ass sometimes, but you're not always the biggest ball of sunshine yourself. But I do care about ya. And I know you won't admit it, but you care about me, too."

I looked down to hide my blush and rolled my eyes.

"Yeah… whatever."

We stood there with our arms locked around each other for a few more elongated minutes. I wasn't sure if he was ever going to let me go, and that was when I came to the conclusion that in reality, he never was. He was _always_ going to be there with me even when the arms rested back at his side. It's because he said it himself—he loves me. Maybe not in the way everyone insists he does, but this boy genuinely cares about me more than probably my dad, or anyone else for that matter. During this sliver of time, I had someone in my arms who wouldn't care about the mistakes I've made, or would make, because he was probably the one helping me make them. I didn't _need_ to be someone's definition of perfect because he simply saw me as me. There was no judgment, no harsh critique ever going on his eyes when he looked at me. I didn't have to be anything else but the person I am.

In his arms, I truly felt beautiful.

In his arms, I truly am in love.

* * *

**.... corny, I know. :)**

**But hopefully you still review because y'all ROCK! and I loooove hearing your thoughts on everything going on in this lil story. What's sad is that it's not little at all, however... I'm not even halfway done. Argh!**

**Anyways, yeah... 'til next time?**


	13. a new perspective and nothing else

**So this update is kinda lengthy. And it doesn't have a whole lot going on; it mainly deals with Miley's confusion over her feelings. 'Cause yeah, she's a very confused girl. :) And of course, some humor here and there, and not as corny as the last chapter. Why am I still talking?**

**Disclaimer: HM is still not mine. Blah!**

* * *

**HeartWare  
**by Broken Oken

_chapter twelve: a new perspective and nothing else_

* * *

I think it kind of goes without saying, but if anything's scarier than the empire state building of slides, it's realizing that you might be in love with your best friend, and worse, your best friend is none other than Oliver Oken, pervert extraordinaire.

And you know what truly sucks? I'm trying to avoid this feeling, but here's the thing: you _cannot _avoid your best friend. It is very simply downright impossible. But it's what I need to do. Obviously. I would not function around him properly, knowing in the back of my head I'm all, "Oh my God, I think I love you," and stuff, something I was sure to accidentally blurt out in the middle of a game of _Uno_ after he yells "DRAW FOUR!" or something stupid and unrelative like that. _Uno_ I can avoid. Oliver—not so much.

It was so… weird. Like, how is it possible to one day look at a person like you have everyday for the past ten zillion years and think, "_Eww, you're a sicko_," and the next day you can't remember thinking such things like that for the past ten zillion years and are instead thinking really wrong things like, "_I kinda wanna kiss you_"? It shouldn't be possible, or even legal, but somehow I find myself in the predicament anyways.

And you know, I've been thinking about it. Maybe I'm _not_ in love. Maybe it's all a misunderstanding. Maybe I was just so brokenhearted from Jake that any guy in the world could've woken me up in the morning, and I would end up thinking I loved him. There is logic in that idea… I think. I mean, that dream I had before he walked in obviously meant nothing—I hadn't thought when I had the dream that I loved him. I was actually almost repulsed by his kissing because it felt so empty. But now I know that's only because it was a dream. His lips weren't _really_ touching my own. C'mon, I'm sure he's a _much_ better kisser than that—

And there I go again! I _cannot _go on thinking about Oliver and kisses in the same sentence. It's crazy talk. Yeah, I'm going crazy and need to speak to a psychiatrist. Then I could be put on meds, and I could just stop thinking about the shape of his lips and the taste that comes with them.

Perhaps this will blow over by tomorrow, and I can go back to sticking my tongue out at him and saying things like, "I hate you, you prick," and other playful insults I never really meant.

But something in the pit of my stomach is informing me that this is not going to blow over. Something tells me that the image of his smile—that godforsaken smirk of his I've hated forever—is going to be even more implanted in my brain than ever before.

As if… I _liked_ the smirk.

But I hate it. I always have. Always will.

…I can think it's cute, too, right?

* * *

I spent most of that next evening solo, just taking a breather and sitting in my room. Lilly had disappeared to the library; she claimed she had a group project to work on for one of her classes. Which was insane in my opinion since it was Friday night, and the last thing I ever want to do on Friday nights is homework… but whatever. I was the one being lame all alone with nothing to do. This time it felt okay, though. I think I _needed_ to be alone to sort out all of the psychotic things I'd been contemplating.

The TV was on, buzzing softly, but I wasn't really concentrating on it. Let's face it—you could've waved a million dollars in front of me and I probably wouldn't blink. I felt as if I'd escaped to another planet or something.

But a _certain_ ringtone set for _certain_ text messages from a _certain_ somebody brought me straight back to earth.

"_He's my best friend, best of all best friends, do you have a best friend, too? He tickles in my tummy, he's so yummy yummy, you should get a best friend, too!"_

Shit. I need to get that changed.

But I still couldn't flip the damn phone open quickly enough. It was so weird. My entire body seemed to like, _ignite_ when I saw the message. And it was as simple as this—

_One New Text Message.  
Fr: Oliver_  
"_was it # 12 we had 2 do in chem or 11?"_

He would be worrying about homework on a Friday night, too. And like, honestly. I should be scolding him for not writing down the assignment, not smiling like a freaking psychopath.

I texted back a rather cheerful, _"#12 silly :)_"

…He did not text back. Oh no.

AHHHHH. I KNEW IT. I am so _obvious!_!!! Even through fucking TEXT MESSAGES. He's probably screaming in disgust that I have these weird new feelings towards him! Our friendship is going to be ruined forever, and it's all my fault! I kinda wanna hit myself. Should I hit myself? I'm such a bad, bad person; I want to scream and cry and—

"_He's my best friend, best of all best friends—"_

_One New Text Message.  
__Fr: Oliver  
"dont call me silly or ill steal my $20 back! :)"_

_Ohh_. Okay. He doesn't know. False alarm.

…Rather flirty text message, though…

NO. No, it's not, Miley. This is how you two _normally_ act with each other.

Oh my GOD, we _have_ always been flirty!!!! OH MY GODDD, everyone was so right. Was I really that stinking oblivious? Like, seriously, I am in disbelief of how bubble-brained I can be sometimes.

So I replied, calmly, even though my hands were doing this freaky shaking thing (he'll never know that, however), "_ull have 2 chase me 4 it :)"_

Good lord. He is going to know by tomorrow, if not within the next hour.

Oh, and he's dating someone. Oh my God, yep, my life is over.

"_He's my best—"_

_One New Text Message.  
Fr: Oliver_  
"_only if its around the bed ;)"_

Holy shitttttttt. HE HAS A GIRLFRIEND. HE SHOULD NOT BE SAYING THESE THINGS TO ME EVEN IF I KINDA WANT HIM TO. WHY WHY WHY? MY LIFE IS SO OVER.

I need to end this now.

_"eww ur gross."_

There. That should do it. That should throw him off guard. Ha! Take that! I'm going to be the _opposite_ of flirtatious so therefore my feelings will disappear! I can beat this!

Even if he is totally _not_ gross anymore. I would like him to be. But he's really not. He's kinda the total opposite of gross.

I should probably be like, heartbroken over Jake.

But I can't be. I am such a messed up individual. What made me realize Oliver isn't so gross after all anyways?

"He's my—"

Okay, it's going on vibrate.

_One New Text Message.  
Fr: Oliver  
"you love me :)"_

NO I DO NOT, OLIVER!!!! SHUT UP!!!!!

Too bad all I said back was the "_shut up_" part.

Ugh. That something in the pit of my stomach is so very right.

* * *

At first I thought Lilly would know something was up. She seemed so perceptive of things at the beginning of the semester with that whole "go talk to Oliver, he likes you, I promise" spiel. And I've been thinking about that for awhile. I mean, I'm happy he doesn't see me that way because then things would get all complicated.

And I've narrowed it down that I'm not in love with him. I don't know if you can be in love with someone who's not in love with you. And I know for a _fact_ that I d_on't_ want to date him. I've come to this conclusion:

I just want to kiss him. To see what it's like. End of story.

I don't love him. _Not_ like that. I just had a dream about kissing him because my mind has been dormantly curious about the idea or something. So, yes, I just want to kiss him.

Anyway I thought maybe Lilly would realize I was acting all weird over the subject of Oliver that evening when she arrived back at the dorm.

I'm not going to lie—I kind of wanted her to pick up on it, so that maybe she would tell me what to do as she seemed like that kind of person, despite the fact that her own best friend was the one dating the kid I so desperately needed to kiss.

But no. She was so oblivious to the world or something.

"How was your day?" I asked as soon as she'd burst through the door.

She looked at me with this bashful smile while she set her purse down on her bed. "_Fantastic_ actually."

I had wanted her to ask how mine was, but that smile told me something else was going on… and I hadn't remembered the last time someone used the adjective of "fantastic" to describe a day. It really must have been fantastic. My problems could wait, I thought. She's too cheerful to get all my mope tonight.

"Oh, really, why's that?" I put on my best smile for her.

She smiled that same smile and collapsed backwards onto her bed next to her purse, exhaling a sigh. "I have a secret admirer."

I perked up a little. "What?"

"I _know_," she gushed. "_Me_. I have a secret admirer. Me, Lilly Truscott. A boy has _never_ liked me before."

This new bit of information I found highly odd. Lilly was not ugly at all by any means. She had nice, long legs, a pretty smile, pretty hair, pretty eyes… why wouldn't guys like her?

"You've never had a boyfriend?" I blurted before covering my mouth slightly. "Er, sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"No, no, it's all right. I'm too happy to care." she sighed again.

"So, like… how did this come about?"

She got back up to a sitting position on the end of her bed, staring at me with bug-eyed sparkling eyes. She looked like she'd been dying to tell me since she'd entered the room, and when she spoke, it came out in this ecstatic tone and speed, "Okay, so I was in the lobby downstairs with Andrea, right? Right. And I went to the bathroom and told Andrea to watch my purse. When I came back, there was, like, a card inside of it. I asked who left it, and Andrea was like, 'Nooot telling, but he's realllly cute,' which, you know, made me want to faint, and she also said I'd probably melt in front of him."

_Andrea._ Her name made me want to kill something, but I chose to ignore the more-violent-than-normal feeling, and pressed her on with, "Lemme see it!"

Knowing I meant the card, of course, Lilly excitedly ran to her purse and snatched out the card easily, and even more quickly than she had received it, she handed it to me. "It's _so_ cute, Miley. I really can't believe it."

It was a simple white card with a simple red heart on the front, surrounded in music notes. Smiling faintly, I viewed the inside to be met with the following:

_"Lilly, your voice is music to my ears. Love, your secret admirer."_

I kinda wanted to giggle at the cheesiness of it, and also because Lilly's singing was not even close to what someone would call music. But hey, if this guy really likes her, and he's apparently "cute" according to Ice Princess—I mean, _Andrea_, then Lilly should go for it. I can't lie; I've always wanted to end up falling in love with a secret admirer… It's such a romantic concept. But I was always afraid it would end up being some kind of creep. It's not like the movies where it's the person you _want_ it to be…

Not that I know who that would _be_ at the moment…

"Aww," I commented with a gentle smile. "I wonder who it is."

"Me too! I wish Andrea would just tell me!"

"Yeah," I said lamely, handing her the card back. She put it away cheerily before turning back to me, and the smile on her face abruptly faulted.

"Hey… I forgot to ask… are you okay?"

"Huh?"

"The other night… Oliver came knocking on the door, and he was carrying you. You were asleep. Said he found you in the elevator."

My cheeks burned in humiliation. Was I really that upset over Jake?

"Oh, yeah. I'm good. Just… think I was sick," I lied, but her eyes squinted at me in disbelief.

"You had mascara streaks on your cheeks. You were crying, Miley. Don't lie to me."

"It's _nothing_."

"Uh huh…" she dipped her chin downwards, giving me the suspicious eyes.

"Really, don't worry about it."

"Jake broke up with you."

"Really, Lilly—" I paused, "Wait, how did you know?"

"I didn't," she said calmly, frowning deeper. "What happened?"

"Ehhh, just… it was a mutual thing."

"No it wasn't. What did he do?" Lilly now appeared irritated. I wasn't sure if it was with me or Jake. I hoped for the latter.

I sighed in defeat, knowing the girl would drag it out of me sooner or later whether I liked it or not. "Kinda like the same thing you did… accused me of being in love with Oliver."

"But you're not, right?" Lilly sat down as well, taking a bag of unopened cheetos with her.

"No!" I replied quickly, avoiding eye contact. I wasn't sure yet if I was lying or not—I knew I was feeling something for the kid… but real, true "in love" feelings was stretching it. I just wanted to kiss him. That's not love, right?

"And you told him that, right?"

"Yeah. And then he tried to have sex with me."

Lilly's eyes bulged. "What?! He did?! Wha—wha—Did you?!"

I bit my lip. "Almost… but something held me back."

_Yeah, the promise you made Oliver. Oliver… damnit. He's ruining my life._

"…and he broke up with you for it," Lilly said sadly.

"Yeah." I nodded, my heart feeling chipped again. "Do you think I did the right thing, though?"

"Yep," she said immediately, stuffing her face with the cheetos. I stared at her in confusion at her speedy reply. "You shouldn't be dating a guy who ends up breaking up with you only 'cause you won't give him the good stuff."

I straightened. "Wow. You're right."

She shrugged, taking another cheesy handful. "It's a gift."

"So, uh, how was the group project thingy?" I asked out of boredom, and she shrugged a second time.

"It was alright. I kinda feel like I'm gonna get stuck doing all the work. You know how that goes." I nodded, and she went on, "But oh yeah, there was this guy in there… he was _so_ creepy. I swear he stared at me for like ten minutes without blinking."

"Was he cute?"

"Nooo. He has this black curly hair… and a beard." She made a face. "Looks like he's thirty."

"Ewww," I imitated her grimace. "Did he say anything to you?"

"Um, sorta. As I was leaving, he asked if he could borrow some money."

"What? Lilly, that's scary. Did you let him?"

"No, I told him I'm a broke college student without a job. And then he walked away."

"That's good…" I cocked my head. "I really hope that's not your secret admirer."

"Oh my God!" Lilly snapped her neck around to me with huge green eyes. "I didn't even think of that! It probably is! Great, great!" she got up from the bed and started pacing frantically.

"Calm down, I don't think beardman would be as romantic as that card."

"I hope not."

I shook my head. "Try to think optimistic."

"I'd rather not. Somehow this is gonna get screwed up, even if it's not Beard-o."

I chuckled at the name. "C'mon, Lilly."

"You're the one who gave me the idea! And—and this is _my_ life we're talking about. I have the worst luck ever. I've been raised by overprotective freaks!"

And with that she collapsed backwards onto her bed, all the while heaving out a very long frustrated sigh of breath.

* * *

The next time I actually bumped into Oliver was the following day. I was down in the café, staring numbly into my cappuccino when I saw his figure approaching. I looked to his right immediately, expecting to find his new beau standing there with him, but then was filled with relief—she was gone. Maybe I could kiss him now and get it over with… I didn't like the way the mere sight of him was causing my heart to go into overdrive, and maybe kissing him would get rid of that feeling…

He helped himself to the chair across from me, smiling casually because as far as he knew, I was still viewing him as my best friend, not my best friend with kissable lips. "Hey, Miles."

"Hey," I said and gazed back into my Styrofoam cup. I could not look at those eyes of his or I'd probably die.

"Shit, is something wrong again?"

"No!" I straightened myself quickly, and in the process, my elbow knocked my coffee all the way over, causing it to explode all over Oliver's shirt. He stood at once, squeaking in pain at the hot liquid. Normally I'd laugh, but I was experiencing one hundred percent humiliation instead. "Oh my gosh, Oliver, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to—"

"No, no, it's okay, uh, don't worry about it," his smile went uneasy and to my utter shock, I watched as his fingers began to unbutton his shirt. My eyes must have been the size of two footballs because he gave me a funny look. "What?"

"Nothing," I replied like the biggest liar ever. He was _not_ going to take his shirt off—

Oh, wait. He was. He had a black wife beater on underneath, but _still_. His muscles that I'd been recently noticing were now pointblank staring me in the face. Oh my gosh, they looked so _nice _and, and _touchable_—

NO. NO THEY DO NOT. KEEP YOUR HANDS TO YOURSELF, MILEY.

"I'm thinking about running to the gym anyways," he told me, and since my mouth was dry and incapable of speech, I nodded instead. "Wanna come? We can make up that chemistry study session I owe ya."

"In the… gym?" I managed to get out. I was just picturing him shirtless and lifting weights, and suddenly him being sweaty wasn't such a turn off anymore…

He shrugged. "Yeah, why not? It's killin' two birds with one stone." Another small nod from me, and he grinned. "Awesome. I'll see you there in thirty?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Alllllrighty then." His grin continued until he was out of sight. He had left his now stained blue shirt at the table. I threw it a menacing expression.

How the hell was I going to be around Oliver if things like that were always gonna happen?!

* * *

This is going to sound ridiculous, but I had no idea what to wear.

Yeah, _to a gym_.

It wasn't a date. It was the freaking _gym_. It didn't matter what you wore. You were gonna look like crap by the time you left, so nobody really cares. _Nobody!_

Except me, I guess. 'Cause I couldn't decide on my pink sweatpants or my pink shorts. Normally I'd just grab the sweatpants and throw on a tank top, but this didn't feel like a quick kind of decision, though it should. My shorts… well, they were short. Obviously, but like… _short_ short. Almost embarrassing to wear in public kind of short. But I wanted to wear them… almost like, like I wanted Oliver to _look_…

I blushed heavily and settled for the sweatpants. It was probably the better choice.

When I got there, I realized with some satisfaction that I had arrived before Oliver. I took this time to stretch, knowing that I'd rather him _not_ see me bend over at the moment…

I took this time to notice that there were a couple of other people in this room of the gym as well. More specifically, two girls and a guy. One of the girls, a redhead, was currently messing with a radio knob, changing stations at rapid pace as the other brunette girl complained for her to "just pick something!" The brunette was also eyeing the boy, but he seemed to not notice—too absorbed in the treadmill he was running on, or the iPod blasting in his ears. Or maybe he just could care less…

I bit my lip as I bent downwards to touch my toes. Hopefully Oliver would be like that if he started to notice me acting differently… just act like he was oblivious to it. It's not _my_ fault I'm so curious to kiss him… I mean, really, I just want to know what it'd _be_ like…

However, my thoughts were immediately frozen—a sudden slap on my—ahem—_behind_ had me straightening myself to a standing position.

Oliver passed by me, smirking, and I gaped. I wasn't sure what to make of what he had just did, and I was surprised I could even find my voice enough to yell, "Excuse me!? Did you just—"

"Slap your ass?" he asked innocently.

I sputtered. "And what do you think your _girlfriend_ would think of that?"

He mocked a thinking stance. "Probably be pissed." But the way he said it was so nonchalant—like if she were to be pissed, he wouldn't bat an eye.

"Exactly… I just… why—?" I couldn't really seem to think of what I wanted to say, because it was then sinking in that Oliver had done something that overstepped our usual boundaries. Sure, we hugged… but he never, _ever_, EVER touched my butt. Not once. And he hadn't just touched it—he'd _slapped_ it. _Intentionally_.

Maybe I wouldn't be making such a big deal out of it had I not been so weirdly and creepy intrigued and almost giddy about this action of his. It almost made me smile. Like, I feel disgusting.

"Oh, please, Miles." Oliver rolled his eyes as he placed his shoe up on a stool to tie it. "Like I'm _not_ gonna slap it if it's just sitting there practically _asking_ for it to be touched. I'm surprised no one's raped you in here yet."

I felt the color rise in my cheeks, and I hurriedly looked the other direction, trying to appear serious and upset when really, I was confused as to why he'd want to touch my butt at all. And not just that, but he was acting like him wanting to touch it should come as no surprise to me or something. Um, _yeah right._

"Whatever. Let's just pretend it never happened." I dared to look at him then, to meet with the chocolate brown eyes I'd been purposely evading until that moment.

And I realized why I needed to be evading them. They were so… beautiful. Than any blue or green-eyed boy I'd ever met. How had it taken me this long to realize how stunning they actually were?

He seemed puzzled at my stare, so I quickly removed my sight from his eyes, but then found them traveling elsewhere…

His arms.

He was wearing that damn wife beater again—the black one that seemed to bulge his muscles to a degree I'd never before witnessed.

I found myself wondering what it'd be like to squeeze them as I kissed him.

I honestly could not feel dirtier, examining my best friend in such a… _sexual_ way. He was the last person on the earth I'm supposed to be drooling over.

God, I am so much more messed up than I've ever imagined.

"Oh, don't act like you didn't like it," he said and smiled, turning around to my luck. I pretended to cough disgustedly, when I was very nervous that I was showing the opposite.

Anyways, we began our workout—me, of course, failing on about every piece of equipment in there while Oliver excelled. We didn't talk too much, which was probably a good thing since the only thing I could really think of to say was, "Wow, I kinda like you sweaty," which is so gross I can barely believe it was my own mind coming up with it.

In the middle of this session, Oliver abruptly remembered the Chemistry study session he'd promised me. He dug his textbook out of the black bag he'd brought and handed it to me. I looked up at him, and he raised his eyebrows, "Here, you study the terms while I do some dumbbells, and then I'll quiz you on it."

"Um, sure," I agreed softly and opened to the chapter we were currently studying and began to search for all the words in bold.

But as I did this, I realized my eyes were lifting over the page to look at Oliver. I eyed his muscle flexing closely as he lifted the weights, practically wanting to throw the damn textbook down and pounce on him.

So, yeah, I'm sitting there, and I'm supposed to be studying my Chem vocab, right? But, uh, instead, I'm examining my best friend's arm muscles. And I tell everyone I _don't_ love him… No wonder they think I'm crazy.

"Oh, yeah, I was gonna ask you, are you going to Katie's big Halloween party?"

I reacted quite stupidly to the question by halfway dropping the book and slicing myself a small paper cut on a page. I winced and brought the bleeding finger to my mouth. I had reacted as if he had caught me staring… not that I _was_ staring… just… _looking_.

I shook my finger out, ignoring Oliver's expected immature chuckle. "I wasn't invited. Who's Katie anyways?"

"A friend of Jake's," he answered almost automatically, before quickly resuming, "Er, never mind."

I frowned. "Jake's dating someone already?"

"Er… not exactly…"

"Oliver!" I slammed the book down and glared at him. "Don't lie to me!"

"But it'll make you feel better!" he objected, and I was probably about seconds away from throwing my shoe at him before he continued, "Mileeyyy, he's _not_ dating her! He's just… I can't even tell you right now."

"Oh my God." I wanted to cry. "He's FUCKING her?!"

The other three heads in the room all simultaneously turned to look at me then—in fact, the guy on the treadmill did a very comedic thing by completely missing his step and tripped off the machine. It looked painful but luckily, the one girl, a.k.a. Treadmill Boy's Stalker, assessed him, and he smiled at her gratefully. She looked like she could jump up and down in excitement. _Huh_, maybe there is such a thing as fate…

But I didn't care at the moment. Oliver had turned bright red. "No, no! He's not 'fucking' her, okay?"

"By 'fucking', I don't mean they have to be truly 'fucking' yet you know—"

"Oookay, stop with the fucking fucking language!" Oliver whispered, walking to me quickly and slapping a hand over my mouth to interrupt me. Briefly I found myself wishing it were his lips instead, and then told myself to stop being such a weirdo.

"If I tell you, will you promise to shut up?" he said fiercely, and because I still couldn't talk, I chose to glare at him as I slightly nodded my head. "Can I trust you enough to let go?"

I should've just bitten his hand for being such a pain in my ass, but I just nodded again anyways.

He finally let go, looking cautious as if I were going to do something crazy—as if he had just released a mass murderer from a psych ward.

"What?" I hissed and crossed my arms.

"Nothing." He raised an eyebrow. "Okay, anyways, _as I was saying_—"

"_Correction_! You were not saying _anything_—the reason _why_ I yelled the fuck word!"

He looked pained, and I realized I'd just screamed the F Bomb again. Brilliant.

"Er, sorry… continue."

"So as I was REALLY saying this time," Oliver glared, and I did back, "Jake is not dating Katie… and he's not _doing_ her either. He's—well, he's gonna kill me for telling you, that's for sure—"

"Just say it already!"

"Okay! He's going to her party as her date because he wants to get you jealous so you'll come crawling back to him! Woo! Happy now?"

I blinked. "What?"

"I'm not repeating it. It took me about ten minutes too long to say it just once."

"Jake still likes me?"

"I guess." Oliver now looked very uncomfortable with the subject.

"That's… weird."

He looked at me for awhile. "Aren't you going to happy dance or something stupid like that?"

"Why would I happy dance?"

"'Cause you're gonna get back with Jake," he said, almost bitterly.

"No I'm not," I told him plainly. "Why would I?"

"Umm, you were very upset when he dumped you, you know…"

"Yeah. It's called being _dumped_. I had no say in the matter. Pisses you off a little, thanks for reminding me."

"Er, sorry."

"Yeah. I'm not getting back with that asshole. I'm getting even. Thinks he can just pull me right back! HA! I'll show him!"

I probably sounded like a crazy person. Oliver looked a little freaked out. "How are you gonna do that exactly?"

"I'm going to this Halloween thing."

"I thought you said you weren't invit—"

"I'm bringing my own date," I interrupted. "My own… sexy as hell, buff to the max, Halloween date…"

There was silence before Oliver was very bluntly like, "But I'm already taken, Miley."

"I know," I said in a low hiss before realizing what I had almost kind of admitted, and blushed. "Doughnut!" I hit him, and he grinned shamelessly.

"I'm just glad you're going," he said with a smile. "I haven't hung out with you and Andrea at the same time in awhile."

I growled inwardly. "Yeah…"

"So who are you taking with you anyways?"

I blinked a few times before it hit me.

"Ohhh, I have juust the person…"

* * *

"RICHIE?! Asshole RICHIE?!" Oliver was pretty much freaking out as we entered our Chemistry room that next day. Nervously I glanced around for any sign of Richie actually being present in the classroom, but I was fortunate in that he was nowhere to be seen so therefore he hadn't heard Oliver's loud outburst.

"He's not an asshole!" I whispered back and set my books down with Oliver following suit, though his way of doing it sounded angry since he slammed them against the desk.

"Yes he is! He hits on anything with tits!"

"OLIVER!" I yelled at him as three girls in the room had turned around curiously.

"It's true!" he pouted.

"You don't know him."

"Well, Andrea does," Oliver said with a giant frown. I raised my eyebrows. "I asked her the other day if she knew him. She said she went to elementary school with him… before she went to Lilly's school."

"So, she was in like, what fourth grade with him? What could happen in fourth grade, Oliver? Don't think you have much to worry about," I told him with a sarcastic smile, but his frown still remained. "Uh oh, what happened in fourth grade?"

"Fifth," he corrected. "They kissed on the swings."

"…okay," I said, blinking. "Still. Fifth grade."

"He was her FIRST kiss, Miley." He glared at me. "Didn't you tell me a looong time ago that a girl never forgets her first kiss?"

I recoiled a bit. "Well, yeah, but that doesn't mean she still has feeling—"

"See! She'll never forget him! Now that they've reunited, she's probably gonna fall for him and forget allll about me…"

It truly killed me to see him so sad about this. I wanted to be like, "I'll never forget you," but that was so out of character that I really couldn't say that.

Oliver went on, with more grief, "…and get this… he plays guitar."

"He plays guitar?!" I squeaked as he groaned.

"Honestly. What is so attractive about the fucking guitar?"

"It's sexy," I answered with not even a second passing after he'd asked.

"Pshh… He's in some band, too. I hear Katie's gonna hire them to play."

I panicked. "Uhh, _no_ she won't! She cannot steal my date away from me! If he's on stage, how will I show Jake I've moved on?"

"You can always dance with a _real_ guy you know," he said, sounding oddly furtive, as if he were actually suggesting himself. My stomach churned at the idea of going on a date with Oliver. I wondered if we'd kiss…

"You have Andrea!" I told him dismissively.

"Well, I didn't mean me."

I blushed in embarrassment. "I-I know! I was just saying!"

He smirked. "Aww, Miweeyy, I'll save a dance for yoouu."

"No! NO you will not!"

"Fine. Save one for me?"

"NO!"

"Okay, okay, stop begging, I'll dance with you, geez." He smiled and turned to the front of the classroom.

"Oliver! OLIVER!"

But it was useless. He was totally ignoring me on purpose. Come that Halloween night, I would be dancing with Oliver Oken as I have at many other high school dances.

But this time, I strangely felt… excited.

* * *

We exited the room after the test, and Oliver literally stunned me by putting an arm around my neck and dragging him into me, thus preventing me from talking to Richie. "Hey!" I yelled even if I kind of wanted to stay in the position.

He released me and chuckled. "Not so fast. What are you gonna go as to the party?"

I furrowed my brow. "I have to dress up?"

"_Yeeeah_, figured I'd tell you since you won't be getting a real invite…"

"Oh, then, uh, I don't know. What about you?"

"You'll see." And with that stupid little mysterious statement, he winked and set off down the hall.

I tapped my foot impatiently as I glowered after him.

Just as Richie himself appeared at my side.

* * *

**Yep, so Richie's character is coming into play at last. Woowoo. The next chapter is sort of dramatic near the end, so hopefully you'll enjoy that more than this boring ass thing. xD**

**Reviews pleeease? Cause that's what I'm about to do--catch up on all my favs and leave them the reviews they deserve. =)**


	14. demasquerade

**Woo! This would have been up Sunday evening if I wasn't so sick, so feel lucky I'm posting right now even though I'm about to fall asleep on the keyboard, haha. Enjoy the DRAMAAA.**

**Disclaimer: I wish.**

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* * *

  
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**HeartWare  
by Broken Oken**

_chapter thirteen**: **de-masquerade_

* * *

Okay, I'd be crazy not to think that Richie is miraculously gorgeous. Because all six feet of him—miraculously gorgeous. And I feel better being allowed to think this for once—I didn't have a guilty mind screaming, "You have Jake! _Resist_!" anymore. Richie can be gorgeous. In _and_ outside of my head.

He was looking at me smugly. Like, in that way where it looked like he knew something that I didn't. Maybe I had a giant "I THINK YOU'RE FUCKING HOT, RICHIE" sticker on my nose. I obviously wouldn't know that, you know. But I'm pretty sure I don't because if I ever created such a sticker, I would hope God would smite me since I really don't think anyone who created such an irritating preteen thing could deserve to live.

Anyways, I hadn't talked to this guy since he had seen me in my FUZ slippers, so I wasn't entirely sure what to say to him. He wasn't really making any kind of movement to say anything to me either (irritatingly enough) so I knew I was going to have to say something, or just anything for him to quit looking at me the way he was. I seriously considered poking him to see if he was made of wax or something. It was a little scary and all.

Eventually I came up with a brilliant word, coincidentally a segment of the alphabet itself.

"Hi."

I am clever, I know.

He smiled and replied just as brilliantly with, "Hey." I mean, it's not in the alphabet, but he's miraculously gorgeous Richie. He can get away with these things.

"Erm, how are you?" I asked laMileyy.

"Good… been awhile since I've actually talked to you."

"Uhh, yeah, it has." I dropped my eyes from his and fumbled with the end of my shirt. Oh, great, I probably just flashed skin. I am a hoebag.

"No slippers this time."

I laughed too loudly at this lame joke of his, but it didn't matter because he smiled widely at me, like he was proud to have made me laugh. He has nice teeth. They should be like, unhidden a lot more.

"Nope," I finally replied. "Just… flip-flops I'm afraid."

"They're nice, too."

Okay, seriously, why are we talking about fucking shoes?

"Um, yeah, so, is there any reason why you're really talking to me?"

I'm not so smooth once you get past the greeting stage, as you can tell.

"Yeah! I was just wondering… about the party?"

"Yeah, I'll go with you," I blurted like word vomit. Like, he hadn't even asked me to be his date. I'd just accepted an invisible invite. Is it possible to appear any more stupid at that precise moment? Probably not.

However, my reply seemed to be just what he wanted to hear. More of his wonderful teeth peeked out from under his lips, and his eyebrows were raised in approval as well. "You really will? You sure?"

"Um, sure," I said, oddly sounding like the most unsure person on the planet at the time. I wasn't certain I knew what was going on. Had Richie just asked me out? … Well, no. I kind of made him skip that part 'cause I'm one twelfth inconveniently psychic or something.

But he still asked me. I think. Or I asked him. No wonder I'm confused.

"Great! I'll meet you there then?"

"Uh, wai—"

"Great! See ya!"

I blinked a couple thousand times after he disappeared down the hall. There was a knot in my stomach, and not of the happy kind. Did he really expect me to just meet him there? What kind of date was this? He was supposed to pick me up at my door, buy me flowers, and hold my hand the whole way there, damnit!

Well, maybe not that last thing. Or the thing before. But c'mon, I had to arrive alone?

I really, really, really hope Lilly doesn't have a date to this thing.

* * *

Lilly has a date to this thing. Of course.

The dorm room was pretty much having its own earthquake when I arrived back to it; that's how loud she was blasting _Boys Like Girls_. I walked inside, shielding my ears since, you know, I like my ability to hear.

"LILLY?? LILLY?!"

She jumped out of the bathroom—or glided, I'm not sure. She was smiling ridiculously large and grabbed at me to pull me into a bear hug. I shrank a little bit in utter shock—it was the first time we had ever hugged, and I was so not ready for it that my head clunked into hers, and we ended up stumbling backwards from each other.

She laughed hysterically loud at this, not finding it awkward at all, and ran for the remote to the stereo. Seconds later the volume hushed itself to a low level, and I could feel a throbbing both in my ears and my head.

"Sorry about that, Miley!" she chirped. Lilly chirps a lot, I'd noticed. It's rare she just says something without a chirp.

"Yeah, it's no, uh, big deal… So, uh, what's, uh, up?"

"Fantastic news! I'm going to Katie's HALLOWEEN PARTY!!!!" And she proceeded to scream after this. Like she was Katie's Halloween Party's number one fan. My eyes, of course, bulged. My head and ears were _not_ fans, as you can imagine.

Immediately I needed to interrupt her. "You are?"

"Yeah! My secret admirer totally asked me today!"

I wanted to die at how disappointed I felt. Because a) I don't want her to have a date, too, and b) I'm such a selfish person for not wanting her to have a date.

But you know, I smiled at her and asked to see the invite anyway.

It was another simple white card with a red heart on it. It said, "I'm dressing as Prince Charming. See you at Katie's, Cinderella."

Well, that's awfully cute.

"He asked me! HE ASKED ME TO GOOOO! And I was totally not gonna go because like, no one goes to these kinda parties alone, right?!"

I must've looked like my dog died because that bright Lilly smile fell apart like the London Bridges.

"Oh my God, Miley, you don't have a date?! I'm so, so, sorry, I just—"

"No, I have a date," I interjected. "He's just… he's meeting me there for some reason."

"Ooooh, who is it?!"

"Richie."

Lilly looked like she might choke on something. It was an almost scary expression. I wasn't sure if she was just gonna like pop out a piece of turkey from her mouth or like… explode.

She chose to explode. With happiness.

"RICHIE ASKED YOU OUT?! OH MY GOD, HE IS FIIIIINEEEE!"

I started laughing. "_Yeees_, he is. Jake is gonna be pissed."

"Who wouldn't be? I bet Oliver will be, too."

My stomach flipped. Did she just imply _Oliver_ would be jealous, too, or was I hearing things? "Huh, who?"

"Oliver," she gave me a strange look. "Y'know, 'cause Andrea says he doesn't like him."

"Right. The kiss thing."

_Yeah, Miley. Like Oliver would ever be jealous of you and some guy. Not that you want him to be, but yeah._

"Yeeah. But he'll get over it eventually. Andrea says she'll make him forget _all_ about her and Richie's little elementary romance."

My heartbeat quickened. "How?" And apparently so did my voice.

"I don't know." she shrugged. "Knowing Andrea, though, her plan will probably work. That girl always gets what she wants."

I sat down onto the bed, processing what she said. I didn't exactly know Andrea that well, but if that was coming from her best friend, then it had to be true.

Even though at that moment, I didn't want it to be.

* * *

Lilly was unfortunately not in the same good mood the next day. When I saw her, her lips were in this mega tight line, and I calmly asked her what was up, though I was a little afraid to hear the answer.

"He's not gonna take me to the party," she replied. No chirp this time at all.

"Why not?!" I asked with almost forced disgust. Part of me was too eager. We could arrive together! YES! I wouldn't be alone like a loser!

"He has my number now… he got it from Andrea. And he texted me this morning and stuff, and we were talking, and I asked what time he'd pick me up, and he was like, 'I'm gonna meet you there.'"

I blinked. "Well, maybe he just wants the surprise masquerade to end at the party in the middle of the dance floor or something, like in all those clichéd movies."

"I guess… but blah. Just _once_ I'd like a guy to pick me up."

"Well, we're going together now."

I got up off the bed, and Lilly glared daggers at me. "Thanks for the comfort."

"It's hard to be consoling when I'm stuck going by myself, too. I'm just glad for the company. Neither of us have to be losers."

"I guess." She didn't sound nearly as enthusiastic.

"So, let's go get our costumes!"

"Right now?" Lilly looked pained.

"Is right now a bad time?"

"I'm supposed to meet Andrea for breakfast."

"She'll get over it—this is important! We gotta go get you a Cinderella costume. And me—oh shit." I froze on my way to the door, barely noticing my cursing. "I have no idea what Richie is going as."

"Who says you have to have a couples costume?"

"I guess not… he probably won't even be dressed up cause of him playing in the band and all."

Lilly put her chin in her hands as a dreamy expression took over. "I sure hope Prince Charming plays guitar."

"Not gonna lie, it's a major turn on—but c'mon, let's go!"

She drew back from my hand. "I haven't even showered!"

"Then get to it!"

"…you haven't either."

"Then _I'll_ get to it! Geesh!"

* * *

October 31st, 6 p.m., and I was staring at myself in the mirror, contemplating if maybe I should leave the dorm room at all. My white dress was so fluffy, and my blonde wig made me look kinda stupid… And I don't think red lipstick looked that hot on me. At least not as good as I pictured.

Some banging on the bathroom door followed by loud shouting interrupted my thoughts. "HEY MARILYN! You freaking ready yet? We're gonna be late!"

"Hold on, Lilly," I said, biting my lip and turning around to examine my backside. _God_. Why did I choose to go as Marilyn Monroe? No one _but _Marilyn Monroe can pull off Marilyn Monroe.

"I've _been_ holdin'. I just need to get there and see my mystery prince, before he gives up and runs away, leaving behind a glass slipper or a pumpkin or something!"

"Lilly, _you're_ the one with the glass slippers—not him."

"I know, but, like—just hurry up!"

Sighing, I swung open the door to be met with Lilly-rella herself. It was weird to see Lilly so dolled up as she normally just dressed in sweatpants and t-shirts or hoodies and other sports attire, but not this night. I had helped to put her long blonde hair into perfect little ringlets on top of her head. I'd also had the "pleasure" of doing her make-up, which was about as easy as hugging a cactus. She was anything but patient with me about that.

Her giant Disney Cinderella dress complimented it all nicely. Whoever Prince Charming was, he'd be sure to be astounded by her beauty.

"Don't you look cute," she commented.

I bit my lip again. "Thanks. You're looking pretty dazzling yourself."

"Ha, I try," she said, pretending to flip some imaginary hair over her shoulder. "But are you ready? Like, for real?"

"I guess so."

"Stop looking so uncomfortable, I'm the one in heels."

"…so am I, Lilly."

"But when do you see _me_ wear heels?"

"Never?"

"Exactly. So give me your arm so I can grab it, 'cause I can walk about as well as a drunken sloth. And then we'll be there in no time."

* * *

As soon as we got to this party, Lilly flew from me. I really have no other way of describing how quickly she left my side. I could understand she was anxious to meet her secret admirer, but it was literally like, "Yay! See you later!" and a puff of smoke later, Lilly-rella had vanished. But she left no glass slipper.

I grumbled to myself in irritation. I now looked like a loser after all. I glanced around worriedly for Jake, and didn't see him anywhere, so with a shrug to myself I made my way to the refreshments table. There was juice, soda, and of course… alcohol. I stared at it, unsure if I was going to be enforced to drink it later. Hopefully Richie wasn't a raging alcoholic… I hadn't even thought of that.

I poured some of the unspiked punch into a glass and faced the rest of the room, looking for anyone I knew. It was going to be difficult seeing as Oliver had been a secretive asshole about his costume, and also wouldn't tell me Andrea's costume since it was his "counterpart" and would give away his identity. So in return—I did not give him the pleasure of knowing my own outfit.

I glanced at the clock—6:35. Richie would be here in no time.

* * *

It was one hour later that I realized this was turning out to be the worst Halloween party I'd ever been to. Richie was fucking nowhere to be seen, along with Oliver, Lilly, and even Andrea. I mean, I could actually care less about the latter, but at least she could be someone to talk to… or glare at… instead of just standing here by the refreshments all alone dressed as Marilyn Monroe like a loser.

I took my seventh hundred sad and lonely sip of my punch when I felt arms around my waist. I blushed deeply as they tightened and lowered slowly towards my thighs, and hot breath nipped at my neck. How could Richie be this fresh on our first freaking date?!

I started to talk when I was interrupted by a voice I hadn't been anticipating.

"So, Miss Monroe, you gonna take this off for me later?"

In an instant I turned myself around to see that this had been freaking _Oliver_ all this time, and I slapped him hard across the cheek. He flew backwards and his eyes widened as he took me in.

"Wait—_Miley?!_"

It was comedic I'll admit to see Oliver dressed full-out in an Elvis costume, looking as wildly puzzled as I've ever seen him, but I could barely breathe at how close he'd just been to my body. He had been _this close_ to touching a certain PRIVATE area of mine. Sure, he can touch my butt, but the opposite side is not a place for your best guy friend to be putting his hand.

"Oliver!" I cried. "What the fuck was that?!"

He blushed madly as he scrambled closer to me, throwing his hands up in defense. "I—I—I thought—Andrea said—"

And as if the sound of her name had summoned her, Ice Princess appeared behind him…

…_dressed as Marilyn Monroe._

She was staring me down probably in the way that I was looking at her—disgustedly. It was plainly obvious she hated the fact that we dressed as the same thing for Halloween maybe more than I did.

Her platinum blonde wig was not as good as mine, though, I noticed with some sort of pride.

Oliver saw her three seconds after I did, looking at her in shock as well. "Well—uh—this is awkward."

She took her eyes off me to stare at him. "You didn't tell me she was going as her, too." Like, as if I wasn't just standing there a few feet away. What the fuck?

I didn't know what else to do but just walk away. I was so very embarrassed—I had no idea if Andrea had witnessed the very sexual way Oliver had just been holding me… and also that I hadn't immediately pulled away for some reason. But that was because I thought it was Richie. I wanted Richie to sexually hold me? No, no… I just liked the way I had felt… warm…

I flushed insanely hard as I thought about it. Was _that_ what it was like to be Andrea? She got to be held like that everyday? I had to admit… I wish I could be her…

NO. No, I don't. I told myself I was through with thinking about Oliver this way.

But, wait a minute. What did he mean by, "take that off for me later"?

He wasn't… _fucking her already, was he?!  
_  
I stopped in my heels, glaring harshly at the wall ahead of me. If he was screwing her, I was going to raise hell and sick it on him. And her especially. God, she's such a little whor—

"MILEY!"

I quickly reacted to my name and saw Oliver standing there behind me, looking out of breath as if he'd been chasing me the entire time I'd been walking away. In fact, his Elvis wig looked completely out of place now.

"What?" I asked snobbishly.

"I'm sorry if… I…" he breathed deeply, clutching a knee. "I freaked you out back there. Andrea… she told me she was getting some punch. And—and you were there, and I just thought it was her. You told me you thought about going as the Little Mermaid."

"Well, obviously not anymore," I hissed.

"Why are you so mad?" he suddenly got an attitude, too. "It was an accident! I didn't hurt you or anything, right?"

"No."

Not physically anyway…

"Then why are you so angry?!"

"You guys are having sex, aren't you?!" I yelled, and his eyes bugged, looking around to make sure none of the other party guests had heard, but to his luck, no one had, or were just doing the right thing by ignoring it.

"Miley," he pleaded, and came forward, wrapping an arm around me and started guiding me towards the exit. I pushed him off of me, still not releasing my look of death.

"Tell me right now, Oliver. Right now."

"I'm not talking about this with you!"

"Oh my GOD, you are?!" A new emotion broke out in me as I screamed it—I had choked on my anger, turning it more into an upset kind of feeling.

He sighed, and I somehow gave up my defense and let him lead me outside.

I was frowning by this time, though I was trying very hard to just make it seem like an angry kind of frown rather than a heartbroken one.

"Miley… we aren't, okay?" he said slowly.

I shook my head. "I don't believe you."

"Why not!"

"Why else would you ask me to 'take it off later'?"

He looked frustrated, and for a moment, I thought he was just going to admit it to me—that they had made it to that stage of their relationship. But he didn't. It was something equally heart wrenching.

"I was… we were going to, tonight."

I don't know how to explain it, but something fell apart inside me.

"O-oh," I said shakily. "You… uh… oh."

He bit his lip, looking at me curiously. "Yeah."

It was silent before I couldn't take it anymore, I just started yelling out all of the things circling my head: "What the hell?! You promised me you'd do it with someone you love!"

"I—I know, Miley! I just, I can't… wait."

"Ohhh, great reason to do it then!" I spat. "Not cause you actually care about the girl!"

"Why the hell do you care so much?!"

"I don't!"

"Then how is this any of your business?!"

"Cause you're my best friend, Oliver! We tell each other everything, and you—you fucking promised!"

He sighed loudly, agitatedly, as he took a step closer. Before I knew what was going on, he had a grip on my arms. I froze, staring at him peculiarly, and before I knew it, my heart was beating in such a crazy manner that I couldn't believe it was Oliver that was making it react this way.

"I'm sorry," he told me seriously. "I didn't… know it bothered you this much."

"It's okay…" I whispered, avoiding his eyes since I very well couldn't breathe just by him touching me—who knew what his eyes would do to me at this moment. "I can't make your decisions for you I guess."

He was somehow very close to my face because when he spoke, his words were louder even though he was still whispering. "No… your opinion matters. Always. More than anyone's."

"I just, I don't want you to regret anything…" I murmured.

"I don't love her, Miley."

"You don't?" I lifted my head on accident, cursing myself for doing so, because his magnetic eyes had me lost all over again.

"No. Not in that way yet. So, I'm not going to. I can wait."

"…until you love her?"

He gazed at me intently and so forcefully I could almost feel it. "No. Until I'm in love with her… like the way I'm in l—"

"Oliver!"

His sentence was left interrupted, and his hands let go of me at once, and I felt myself tumbling back into reality where I wasn't allowed to be so mesmerized by my best friend's eyes and touch.

Andrea was standing there behind us, looking enraged. I hadn't any idea how long she'd been standing there. I wasn't really sure why she was mad—maybe she had heard that she wasn't going to be doing Oliver later on, I don't know. I'd probably be pretty pissed about that, too… I mean—never mind.

Oliver sighed long and hard before he looked at her. "Can I please talk to her, Andrea? For like, a second?"

"About what?" she asked with a semi-glare.

"Does it matter? I never see her anymore!"

"Fine, just—whatever," she hissed as she turned herself around and then stomped into the building.

Oliver sighed once more. "I'm sorry, she—"

"No, it's no problem, you can go follow her if you want." I waved at him to try to enforce truth in my words when I was really feeling like if he did follow her, I'd be angry.

"No, I'd like to talk to you for a moment."

I raised an eyebrow. "About…?"

"Nothing. I want to talk about nothing with you. We never do anymore. I miss it."

I smiled. "Really?"

"Yeah. I wanna make fun of you, too."

"That I do _not_ mis—"

"You look like a dork tonight."

"_Oliver!"_

"You really do. Though, what's with the cleavage performance? You never show this much of your boobies."

I blushed. "Don't look at my boobies!"

"They looked at me first!" My stubbornness fell as I laughed at him, and he smirked. "Man, I miss making you laugh."

"Pshhhh…"

A song floated into the air from inside the party, and I suddenly felt really awkward. Oliver wasn't saying much of anything either, and I about told him we should go back inside when he startled me by putting his hands on my waist. I almost screamed, but then he laughed. "Whoa, calm down. I'm just giving you that dance I owe ya."

"What dance?"

"I told you I'd dance with you. I'm living up to my word—or would be, if you'd just cooperate and put your arms around my neck."

I considered this. "Andrea will kill you if she sees this."

"Ah, what's it matter? I ain't getting any tonight anyways."

I glared at him, and he smiled guiltily, almost too cute for me to really care anymore—so I slowly placed my arms around his shoulders and stepped myself closer. I found myself wanting to be even closer than we were, but I figured that this distance was a safe one.

I think we swayed back in forth in silence for maybe twenty seconds. It was peaceful not arguing with him, but I almost hated it. I found myself almost missing his voice, as weird as it sounded.

When he did speak, it was in my ear, and in a very low voice, "I was just kidding about you looking like a dork."

I tensed, not liking the way his breath was making me feel all tingly. "I know."

"You look spectacular, my dear."

"So do you, Elvis."

"Thank you, thank you very much."

I giggled softly, not needing to look at him to know that he was grinning. We continued to slow dance when we were interrupted once more. But not by Andrea.

"Uhhh?"

Heath and I broke apart slowly, and I realized that it was Richie was standing there by the door, looking completely confused at the scene he was witnessing. It was eerily similar to the way Andrea had been examining us.

"Oh, hey, Richie," I greeted as he eyed Oliver curiously, and I quickly explained, "We were just dancing. I was waiting for you."

"Oh, well… I'm here now." He still kept his eyes glued to Oliver, who had become very unhelpfully quiet about this whole thing.

"Right. I'll just be going; bye Oliver."

Oliver simply nodded, not bothering to voice anything or voice his own goodbye. I felt very pissed off at the silent treatment, so I just rolled my eyes and stomped back into the garage after Ric

When I got inside, I was surprising myself that I didn't feel very eager to be here with Richie, as hot and gorgeous as he is. I actually wanted to run back inside and finish my dance with Oliver. I liked Oliver's arms, and I certainly adored being in them.

But then I noticed that Richie was not in costume. I raised an eyebrow, and he answered for me, "Don't worry, I have my costume, I just have to perform first."

"But you just got here!" I complained.

"It's only like a fifteen minute performance. We're the opening band."

"Ugh, fine, just go," I sighed, and he smiled, and started to run away before he came back and smiled even bigger.

"So this is a good surprise right?"

"What is?"

"Who I am."

"What?"

"You like me back, right?"

"Um, sure I guess."

"Good… I knew all my hard work would pay off in the end."

I cocked my head to the side, confused as to what the heck he was talking about, and he smiled even more. "I'll be back soon. You look beautiful tonight."

As he walked away, I stood there for eight minutes straight, trying to sink in that whole conversation. Hard work? What hard work? I'd pretty much asked _him_ to be my date…

I took another sip of my punch. A good surprise?

Suddenly the music seemed to die down, and everyone seemed to hush with it as well. I looked up to see Richie standing on stage with four other boys—one on drums, one on bass, one on keyboard, and him, with a guitar. Ohhh, so _that's _why his fingers are so calloused…

Richie grabbed the mic in front of him, and I finally took notice that he was smiling at me. I smiled awkwardly back. I'd barely talked to this kid, but he was looking at me like we were dating or something.

"Testing… 1, 2, 3…" He cleared his throat, and finally spoke, "Hey Santa Barbera, how's everyone doing tonight?!" Everyone cheered and I clapped slowly. "Everyone having a good Halloween?!"

There was more applause, and I suddenly realized there was someone standing in a giant blue dress next to me. Lilly! I smiled at her, and she finally saw me, too, walking closer to me. Where the heck had she been all this time?

Richie continued to say stuff, but I was too concentrated on the sad face Lilly was currently showing.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

She sighed—I couldn't hear it because of the crowd, but I got that from the slump of her shoulders. "My secret admirer has yet to meet me here."

"Don't worry, I'm sure he'll show!"

"I hope so. Beardo's here, too." And with her eyes she directed me towards the back wall--and yep, there he was.

"He didn't ask you for more money, right?"

"No. Just ben staring at me for a good hour.... Prince Charming better show up and show him who's boss."

"He will! He seems like he really likes you."

"I know. I mean, why would he ditch after all that hard work he put into it?"

I nodded, about to smile, when I realized the key phrase Lilly had said. My heart dropped as the first conversation Richie and I came back into memory, how I'd never actually heard Richie say my name. And slowly, Richie's voice faded back in.

"And I'd just like to dedicate this first opening song to someone special. Her voice is music to my ears, but I'm sure she knows that already."

Lilly heard it, too. She looked thoroughly confused.

A spotlight blinded me.

"Lilly, this is for you."

* * *

**GASPZZZZ. Ohhhh drama. Wheeeeee.**

**The next chapter is even more intense. :)**

**So, review, and maybe I'll write faster.. maybe.**


	15. the worst halloween

**Alright... I've been slacking. This chapter was hard to edit, because it wasn't turning out the way I wanted/needed it, too. It still isn't the way I intended, but whatever, I'm tired of looking at the dumb thing. xD It's rather dramatic, too... something I don't think you're expecting at allll. But oh well. Yay surprises?**

**I hope everyone has a fun and SAFE New Years Eve. Or to those in the "future" on the opposite side of the world, I hope it was a fun and SAFE New Years Eve. haha.**

**Disclaimer: Nope, nope, and nope. I also don't own the Boys Like Girls ringtone mentioned, ha.**

* * *

**HeartWare  
by Broken Oken**

_chapter fourteen: the worst halloween_

* * *

I'd never been in a room full of crazy and loud people and actually heard _nothing_ until that precise moment. I could see a hundred faces looking at me—some with giant, wide, "aww"ing smiles, others with confused eyebrows, but the only one I could really concentrate on, was the one forming beside me.

Lilly's face had been contorted into an expression so nameless that it didn't even look like a face anymore. Her cheeks had seemed to sag somehow, and her lips dropped as well, and her eyes were wide and blinking. She was staring at me as I stood there in the spotlight as Richie's band played whatever the hell was supposedly being played for me. I had never felt so, so horrible.

In mere seconds she disappeared. I called out to her, feeling slightly disoriented and dizzy from the bright light on my face and also the guilt embedding me. I nearly tripped from it as I stumbled forward to chase after her.

I knew Richie was probably wondering why I was running away after his dedication; he probably thought he'd freaked me out. And he had. Just not in the way he might think.

I realized that Lilly was running to our dorm the moment we got outside. She was mercilessly digging through her purse for something, most likely a key, though never taking a moment to stop running. Luckily for me, the girl does not know how to run in heels, so she abruptly faltered in her steps, and I sprang forward to catch her by the arm.

Once she saw me, I noted the heavy mascara lines down her face, and just how frightened she appeared.

"Lilly," I said softly. "I'm—I'm really sorry."

"Get away from me!" she yelled as she got to her feet, stumbling all over the place in her heels, and then it came to me that maybe she had been _drinking_—she wasn't even walking in a straight pattern… or maybe she was just blind from tears. My heart lurched.

"Lilly! I'm sorry!"

"How the hell did this even happen?!" she screamed, turning around and almost falling to the ground immediately, but catching herself just in time. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm not surprised that a guy _still_ doesn't like me, but—like, how?! How did he think _you_ were me?! It makes no fucking sense!!!"

"Lilly, listen, like… I forgot to tell you… the first time I met Richie, I—I mistakenly told him my name was Lilly. Because I looked horrible, and—"

"And so therefore, you had to blame your terrible appearance on me?!"

"I don't know! Apparently I must've not looked too terrible if he started sending you love letters and stuff!"

She started crying again. "God! For one time… I just want a guy to like me. It just figures that he likes you! YOU! It doesn't even make sense."

"I know it doesn't, it's really messed up… and I'm so sorry, Lilly. I, I'll have to make it up to you. I'll find you a boyfri—"

"NO!" the word cut into me. "I don't need your help! You just make everything worse! I'm going home, but don't follow me! And—and have fun with Richie! Be sure to tell him 'fuck you' for me!"

And with that, she kicked off her shoes, placed them in her hands, and took off down the street barefoot.

I threw off my wig and stomped on it.

* * *

Surprisingly, yet not, Oliver was the one to find me again. I had no idea if Richie cared that I was missing, but it was well after fifteen minutes since the dedication, so I fugred his band had to be done by then. So he must've just forgotten about me, or considered me the biggest bitch ever. But in all honesty, I truly didn't care. I wanted to punch him. He had completely ruined the only good girl-girl friendship I'd ever had.

I was sitting on a park bench, wishing repeatedly for my guitar, and staring at the spot where Lilly had last been standing. I sighed again in frustration when someone sat down beside me—that someone, of course, being Oliver.

"Miley? What are you doing out here?" he asked as he looked at me oddly, and then over to where my wig sat trampled out on the grass. "And what's with the wig?"

"Lilly hates me," I answered simply.

"No she doesn't," he said, sounding confused. "What's going on?"

"Didn't you hear Richie dedicate that song to her?" I bit my lip, not sure if that was the correct way to say it. "Er, me?"

"What?"

"Richie was Lilly's secret admirer," I growled. "And awhile back, I told Richie my name was Lilly. So all those love things were for _me_—not her. And then he must've somehow thought I knew he was the secret admirer, and, and—ugh, I'm still trying to figure out how this happened."

"So, wait. Richie _does_ like you… he just thought your name was Lilly?"

"Yeah. And he just dedicated a whole song to 'Lilly' in front of everyone. And that was how Lilly found out who her secret admirer was—as the spotlight was on _me_."

"Did he ever call you Lilly?"

I thought for a second. "No… he never said my name once the more I think about it… _God_."

I placed my chin into my hands and huffed out a deep sigh. I felt so miserable. This was truly turning out to be the worst Halloween I'd ever experienced.

I was startled to have Oliver place an arm around my shoulders. I stiffened, this causing him to momentarily freeze.

"Sorry—do you not—uh—want—"

"No, no, please," I grabbed his arm and shoved it around my shoulders myself, grinning feebly, and then blushing when I realized what I had done. But it was the truth… I liked his arm around me. It might sound crazy, but I believe it belonged there.

"Okay, good, cause you need it," Oliver said and squeezed me towards him so that my forehead was against his chin. I was by this point wanting to throw myself completely on him—and not sexually, but just to feel the warm kindness he was giving me. I didn't think I could be close enough to him.

A thought struck me as how this could be seen from a stranger. "Hey… where's Andrea?" I murmured.

"Oh." Oliver tensed slightly. "She's, um, pissed at me."

"Is that why you came outside?"

"…Yeah…"

"Why's she mad?"

"Well, she wasn't too happy when I told her I wasn't gonna go back with her to her dorm tonight."

I lifted my head. "So you were really serious when you said you wouldn't—?"

"Of course. It's kinda weird to say, and I don't know how to really explain it well or anything, but I feel like, like if you're disappointed with me, that'd be the worst thing I could feel next to losing you."

I blinked at the odd and strong serious tone to his voice, and he looked down at me with a tiny smile gracing his lips. I knew that if I just stretched my head a little bit further, we could be lip-locked.

Not thinking clearly, I scooted myself a little closer to him, and he tensed again for some reason.

"You won't ever lose me, Ollie," I mumbled, mirroring his shy smile.

He didn't reply—he was staring at me with a look in his eyes that I wasn't sure I'd ever seen before. At least not from him. His eyelids were partly covering the brown orbs, and the smile had left his face. I was almost scared, as the expression suddenly seemed to have a name—

_Lust._

There were a few more unmoving seconds before I felt his hand on my cheek. I didn't look as he did this, merely kept gazing into his eyes, not wanting to break the moment. Was—was he going to pull me in? And—and did I want him to?

His thumb slid over my cheek, pushing back a lose strand of my messy hair behind my ear. I unconsciously moved my body nearer so that our legs were now touching.

My heart was thrashing—there was _no_ way he couldn't hear it.

_Kiss me, kiss me_, I suddenly heard my mind screaming endlessly as his eyelids seemed to get heavier, mine following suit. I didn't dare open them, I was terrified that he wasn't going to be leaning in like I now knew I wanted him to, that I'd end up being the only one wanting to touch lips. Nothing would be more mortifying.

And suddenly there wasn't any silence.

"Throw it away, forget yesterday—"

My cell phone blared from my purse, and I popped my eyes open to see Oliver looking back at me in utter shock. I wanted to take my cell phone out and stomp it into little pieces. His fingers deserted my cheek and I really then felt that after I'd smash the phone, I'd throw the pieces off a cliff, one by one.

Not knowing what else to do with how awkward we looked with staring at each other in such confusion and terror of what had almost occurred, I scrambled through my purse to dig for the damn interrupting phone, and when I pulled it out, I was stunned to see that it was _Lilly_ who was calling me.

Somehow forgetting about everything that had just transpired between Oliver and I, I anxiously answered the call, "Hello? Lilly, I'm so sorry, I—"

"_Miiiileeyyy_," she wailed.

I got to my feet. "It's okay, Lilly, I'll be there in a second—"

"_Heeeeeeellllppp_," she was then wailing in a terrified moan.

"Wait, Lilly, are—are you okay?"

She was crying hysterically. "_Help meee_…"

"Lilly, Lilly, what's wrong?"

She answered me, but I couldn't understand her. Her speech was completely lost in her crying, and I struggled to try to piece any words together that might bring sense to her intensified emotion.

And two words finally made that happen:

"_Robbed… gun…"_

For a second my body felt drained of all liquid.

"_What?_! Lilly, are you okay?! _Are you hurt?!_"

At this point in time I realized Oliver had joined me in a standing position, looking at me wildly for explanation.

Lilly mumbled out an almost inaudible, "_the park_," before I was running.

"Miley, what's wrong with Lilly?!" Oliver was calling after me—obviously following in a similar sprint.

I couldn't think straight, I just kept picturing the worse. I couldn't even figure out how to reply to Oliver so I stayed silent as I ran my way to the park, feeling as if it were fifty years away.

I wasn't sure how long it took, and how many times Oliver interrogated me about the situation on the way, but I knew that the moment I saw a girl in a giant blue Cinderella dress sitting against the jungle gym, I could breathe. She was alive.

"Lilly!" I yelled to her, and she lifted her head as I sprinted forward, dropping to my knees in an instant.

Her face—it was horrifying. Her lip was bleeding immensely, there were cuts across her cheeks and forehead, and one of her eyes wasn't opening as it looked dark and swollen.

"Miley," she said quietly as more of her tears fell, mixing with the red liquid oozing down her face.

I frantically dug through my purse, pulling out some Kleenex to wipe at her injuries. She winced and cried as I did this, and I kept whispering, "_Shh, shh_, you're gonna be okay, you're gonna be fine."

"_Nooo_," she moaned. "My money, my purse... gone... he's... be back—he, he told me—"

"Who?" asked a male voice, and I was unnerved to see Oliver standing there behind us. He held a dark and downcast expression…so eerie to the point of where I could barely tell it was Oliver at all, if it weren't for his Halloween Elvis attire. He just looked cold and unfriendly… deadly. _Evil._

"I…d-don't, know," Lilly burbled, burying her face into her arms, and I pulled her into my own, looking up at Oliver in concern.

"What do we do?" I asked him, barely able to talk through my fear.

"We take her to the hospital. Immediately." Oliver walked closer to us and extended his arms. "Here, I'll carry her to my car. Lilly, you don't have any broken bones, right?"

"N-no," she stuttered as I cautiously moved her towards Oliver, and he carefully hoisted her into his arms in a cradling position. I watched with worried eyes, and Oliver simply gave me this look… and that somehow told me everything would be okay.

"Call her parents," he directed to me as he began walking, and I immediately looked on the ground to see Lilly's open phone lying there on the ground.

I'd never spoken with Lilly's parents before, and I felt nervous as I searched for the number, but I knew that I needed to get over it because this wasn't a situation to be selfish. Lilly was in trouble, and her parents needed to know. My dad would probably be flipping a lid.

I found the number as I walked behind Oliver, with Lilly sniffling and crying in pain each second, and just as I was about to dial, something stopped me.

_A gunshot._

I'd never actually heard one before, not in real life actually, but I knew what the sound was the moment it was fired. I flew to the ground as the sound exploded in my ears, and immediately I looked to see if Oliver or Lilly had been hit, but they seemed to be in the same position as me, staring at me in matching faces of horror.

My eyes fearfully searched around the sidewalk and street.

"He's—he's back, I knew i-it," I heard Lilly stutter and Oliver covered her with an arm, looking at me with determination, oddly without the fear that had completely invaded my body by this point.

He motioned at me to get closer, and I shook my head no, not wanting to move. His brow furrowed and again he waved a hand to me, but I still forcefully disobeyed, wanting to lie in that position forever, scared that if I lifted a finger, another gunshot would be fired, and this time—actually hitting a target.

It was then I saw the dread return to Oliver's eyes. He wasn't scared for himself… but for _me_.

"Miley," he whispered. "Get over here. Please."

"I can't. I can't move."

"Yes you can. Please, Miley, you—over here right now."

"What if—what if something happens?" I said, and at this point the tears were forming.

"Nothing will happen to you. Not with me here. Which, which is why you need to _get behind me_."

I gazed at him for a moment. We locked eyes, and somehow, I knew he was being honest. That intensified fear spoke to me, saying very blatantly he'd risk his life for me.

"O-okay," I said, gritting my teeth, and Oliver slowly nodded.

"Stay low. On the count of three, okay? One…"

I couldn't do this.

"Two…"

_I couldn't do this._

"Three."

Gasping out a strangled cry I flew myself forwards to him, barely believing I'd made it when I felt his arm go over my side protectively.

I didn't even know I was crying until I heard the whispering in my ear, "_Shh, Miles, shh_, it'll be alright…" and he was stroking my hair gently.

It was a long time before we moved from that position. A stranger, a woman to be exact, found us, and called the cops. I was hyperventilating along with Lilly, and I blacked out before I could even figure out if we were still in danger…

* * *

When I awoke in a hospital bed, I had never felt more terrified.

Oliver and Lilly weren't anywhere around me, but… my daddy was. He sprang forward when he saw me blinking and staring, and enveloped me into his arms. I hugged back as fiercely as humanly possible.

"Mile, Miley, God, _you're okay_, if _anything_ happened—"

"Oliver—where is he? Lilly?"

He released me slightly, enough to lean back to look at me in the face. When he didn't respond immediately, just looked at me solemnly, my mind went into a frenzy. The terror in my eyes must have been enough for him to finally reply, and what he said miraculously calmed me.

"Oliver's outside, talking to his parents. Lilly—she's still being taken care of. She'll be okay… they're more worried for her mental state."

My eyes watered. "It's my fault. All my fault." His arms surrounded me again, repeating that I was wrong, that _this was not my fault, it's no one's_, but I thrashed my way out of his hold. "No! It _is_ my fault! If I didn't exist, she wouldn't have gotten mad at me, and she wouldn't have left that party…"

I sobbed into my palms, and I could feel my dad still massaging my back gently with one of his hands. I just wanted out of here. I wanted to see Lilly.

"Miley!"

My head lifted, and I barely saw Oliver's figure approaching before I was swept away into his arms. I froze as he squeezed me tighter than I was pretty sure he had ever done before.

"You're okay… _you're okay_…" for a moment I thought maybe he was talking about me, but when I heard the slight wobble in his voice… I knew he was calming himself.

Unlike with my dad, I didn't want to pull away, so I pressed my crying face hard into his shoulder. He stroked my arms and back soothingly, and he didn't say anything to me, and no one tried talking to him either. It was just a moment that we needed to share alone, and somehow everyone else had figured that out.

Over his shoulder I saw Oliver's family now present in the room. His mom's eyes were red from crying, and his dad looked completely somber. The twins looked confused and out of place.

I chose this moment to let go of him so that everyone could speak. A nurse was in the room, telling everyone to lower their voices at once because I could still be disoriented, and loud noises might frazzle my mind.

She was right, you know, because I couldn't hear anything anyone was saying.

She was right because all I could think about was the safety I felt in Oliver's arms.

* * *

They wouldn't let me see Lilly, even when I was released.

Naturally, I was furious.

"I have to see her! She'll hate me! She already does for what I did to her!"

"You didn't do anything to her, Miley," Oliver barked, holding me back from tearing the nurse's head off. "Stop blaming yourself."

"I'm really sorry," the blonde nurse said, actually looking apologetic this time. "She can't have visitors at the moment. Family only."

"I'm her freaking roommate!" I screamed. "I _live_ with her, she's like my family!"

"I'm really sorry," she repeated, standing up while hugging a clipboard, and then disappearing down the hallway. I automatically started to follow, but Oliver pulled me harshly backwards. I glared daggers at him.

"Let me go, Oliver!"

"No."

"Oliver! What the hell?!" I struggled and thrashed for him to free his grip on me, but nothing seemed to be working. I was so frustrated at that moment that something extremely weird happened—_I raised an arm as if to strike him_.

And then I actually did. Brutally. Right onto his shoulder.

But instead of fighting back like I apprehended, he just stood there, looking at me with a cheerless frown. That look struck a nerve, and I was suddenly sobbing all over again.

"Miley…"

I retreated into his chest yet again, and somehow even after I had just almost punched his face in, his arms enfolded around my back, and he held me in the middle of the hospital's hallway, as his already make-up stained shirt became wet once more.

* * *

Dad thought it was best for me to be back in Malibu for a few days.

This meant I would be missing class, and not to mention I'd still be fully unaware of what was going on with Lilly. She could be minutes from her deathbed, and I'd never know. Everyone could have been lying at that hospital, even my dad. You know, just to save me the pain. If I ever caused someone's death, I'd never forgive myself.

But they forced me in the car back home anyways. I really wouldn't go until Oliver told his parents he'd just ride with Dad and I, and somehow, this soothed my anger, and I wound up falling asleep against him for the next two hours.

He and Dad awoke me when we'd reached my house, and I was so tired that I stumbled my way back into my old bed immediately. It was only eight 'o'clock, but I wanted to be gone, if that made any sense.

Dad kissed me on the forehead and told me he loved me. I mumbled back a matching sentence, and then turned my attention to Oliver.

He stood there against my bed, looking concerned and awkward.

I was barely awake, and I wasn't sure if it came out understandable, but I found the same three words spilling out to him as well: "I love you."

He leaned down, and I thought I must have been dreaming because Oliver had never done what he did next: _he kissed me on the forehead_.

But it wasn't like my dad's style of doing it. He let the kiss remain there longer than necessary to be accountable for something as simple as a friend kind of kiss. And it was warm to my forehead and brought swirls to my stomach.

He straightened himself slowly and said, "I love you, too, Miles. I'll talk to you in the morning."

I didn't see him leave, but I drifted off with an actual smile, feeling the embedding and sweet warmth lingering on my forehead.

* * *

Oliver was true to his word because at ten 'o'clock when I awoke, he was actually sitting on the end of my bed. He wasn't looking at me, but around the room in boredom. I watched him for a moment instead of saying anything. I could barely believe the way he was treating me… it was so nice and unbelievable. I knew he cared about me; I always knew he'd do anything for me, but to truly see it in action… it was crazy.

His eyes suddenly flickered in my direction, and we held contact like that for a few seconds.

"Morning, sleepyhead," he said softly, and his lips morphed into a tiny smile.

Even though I knew he had promised he'd be here, I asked him anyway.

"Your dad thought if you woke up to me in here, you wouldn't be as freaked out. He was afraid you wouldn't remember how you got home… we had you on some antidepressants…" he shifted his gaze. "He's really worried about you, Miles."

"I'm worried about Lilly," I stated simply.

"Andrea told me she's fine, and she'll be out of the hospital by this evening. No real injuries."

My eyes bugged. "I have to call her." I reached for my cell phone, but Oliver put a hand over mine. "What?"

"Call her tomorrow, when she's at home and feeling at peace."

"I just wanna talk to her! Why is it that no one is letting me? Is she dead and everyone is lying to me or something to make me feel better?!"

"Miles," he sighed. "She's not dead. I _promis_e."

"She better not be!"

"Calm down. Let's go get some breakfast, okay?"

I swiveled my gaze to his, when I noticed that he was holding a hand out to me. I looked at it curiously before delicately placing my own on his. He immediately curled his fingers around mine, and I felt a jolt of electricity surge between us. I'd wondered if he felt it, too, because his head seemed to snap upwards as soon as we'd touched.

We stared at each other for a prolonged moment before he cleared his throat and stood. My hand being attached to his and all, I followed suit.

And we continued that way down the stairs to the breakfast table where a feast of pancakes, bacon, and scrambled eggs awaited.

My dad raised his eyebrows at our hooked hands, but I didn't care, and to my pleasant surprise, it seemed Oliver didn't either.

He had a hold on me. And when he turned and smiled softly at me when we took our seats, I realized that I didn't mean that statement with that we were holding hands, but that he did have an actual hold on me. One that would not be easily replaced or erased, if ever.

He had a hold on me.

No. He _has_ a hold on me.

* * *

**Aww. Miley loves him. =)**

**Kinda crazy chapter, right? Which means I'm suuure you want to respond... with a nice little review. ;) **


	16. this

**This took forever for me to put up, and I apologize. I just have been SUCKING at writing a lot lately. I don't know why. It's really been getting me down lately, to be honest... so, I'm sorry if this is terribly bad, because it has a FAIRLY IMPORTANT part of the story in it.... I'm sure you all will love it. :p**

**Anyways, yeah. I don't freaking own Hannah Montana. ):**

* * *

**HeartWare  
by Broken Oken**

_chapter fifteen: this_

* * *

Breakfast was fast and easy. Oliver and I simultaneously let go of each other's hands to allow us to eat, and surprisingly, my dad didn't raise any questions about the behavior. It was like he knew something I didn't. Only a few months ago, I was positive that if Oliver and I came into a room holding hands, his eyes would bounce right out of his skull. But now he seemed to deem this as normal. Miley and Oliver holding hands was normal? I think not.

During the meal, Dad asked if I was feeling okay, something I'd been expecting, and I told him with a confident nod that I was, but would feel better if I could speak to Lilly. He, like Oliver, declined the request, and I was forced to poke at my scrambled eggs with irritation. This charade couldn't go on forever.

Afterwards, Dad resorted to his room, saying that he needed some sleep since he'd done without it for the past two evenings. I felt sort of guilty for making him worry so much. My behavior hadn't been pleasant to deal with—all I'd done was scream and cry, not laugh and smile like the Miley he was used to.

Oliver and him seemed to be in some kind of silent agreement 'cause as soon as Dad announced he'd be going upstairs, he gave Oliver this… look. And Oliver had nodded.

When Dad was gone, I threw him a questioning glance. "What was that?"

"What?"

"Don't play dumb, donut." I waved a fork at him. "You and my daddio."

"He just wants me to keep an eye on you today."

"_You_ keep an eye on _me_?" I looked at him, grinning crookedly for the first time since Halloween night. "Do you not see the syrup all over your shirt?"

He looked down, smiling as he saw what I had pointed out. "Hey now. I'm no fancy pants eater… I just kinda stuff it in my mouth and swallow."

"That's what she said." I grinned again, and Oliver rolled his eyes, obviously stifling a chuckle.

"You're in an awfully good mood now… what happened?"

"Nothing." I shrugged and got off the chair. "I just wanna be happy today."

"Good to know." He watched me as I pranced my way to the living room couch. "We're gonna watch some TV?"

"Sure, why not."

He sat down on the chair across from me, much to my dismay, but I forced myself to hold my smile. He eyed the television. "This show sucks. Let's watch _Jayy TV_."

"God, why?" I dramatically yelled.

"Cause it's funny." He snatched the remote from my hand before I could blink, and in seconds, the show was blaring on the screen. I, of course, watched it in annoyance. Jay Carlson was springing a large, fake snake onto random people coming out of a zoo. "This is not a funny show," I muttered. "I would sue if he tried any of this crap on me."

"If he tried any of this crap on you, I would be ecstatic." I glared at him; he smirked. "_Juuust_ because I'd get to meet him probably."

"He's not God."

"He _is_ a God. A genius really." I rolled my eyes at this remark, and after a few more seconds of silence, Oliver broke it again, "I wonder where he lives."

"Oh my God, Oliver, can you sound any more obsessive? I'm beginning to think you want his nuts."

"I would go gay for that man anyday."

I stared at Oliver, and he looked back at me, smiling in that joking kind of way. "If you go gay for Jay Carlson, I'm never speaking to you again."

"I can't be gay?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Cause that's weird."

"It's a free country."

"You're not gay, Oliver."

"What if I am?"

"You're not."

"Buuut what if I am?"

"I would know, trust me."

"I could be hiding it well."

"You're not gay, Oliver. I see the way you look at girls like a starved animal."

"It could be an act."

"So, when you were gonna do it with Andrea, would that have been an act?"

I seemed to have struck a nerve with that statement as he face glowered at me. "Don't bring that up." And I was right.

"Why not?"

"Cause it reminds me that I'm still a virgin."

I looked at him with a glare. "What's wrong with that?"

"Everything when you're an eighteen year old guy in college."

"I'm an eighteen year old girl in college, and I'm a virgin."

He shifted uncomfortably. "That's different..."

"How?"

"You're a _girl_! You don't need to be going out and having sex."

"Neither do you!"

He growled and settled himself into the chair more at ease. "It's hard for you to understand, Miles."

"What the hell? Oliver—I am sorry I don't agree with you wanting to have sex with some girl!"

"She's my _girlfriend_, Miles," he hissed lowly. "I can't avoid it forever."

I didn't know what to say after that so I got up from the couch and stormed my way into the bathroom.

"Miles! MILEY!" I heard Oliver calling, but I pretended not to hear. "I'm sorry, Miles! Miles, just come back out here! I'll even change the channel!"

I swung the door open and sauntered my way with arrogance to the living room to sit back down on the couch. And yep, Oliver looked angry.

"You can't always have your way, you know," he said darkly.

"I do a pretty good job of making it happen, I think."

"Whatever."

And with that, I made Jay Carlson's snide face disappear.

* * *

Oliver and I are good at getting over our arguments, which would explain why only fifteen minutes later he was throwing popcorn at me for me to catch in my mouth.

"Got that one!" I chirped happily and then chewed.

"Lucky shot," he commented as I heard footsteps descending the stairs. My dad looked at us humorously.

"I thought kids were supposed to grow up in college."

"Nope!" I piped. "Oliver! Throw another!"

He rolled his eyes, but obliged. And for a second time in a row, I caught it.

"Yes!" I cheered and swallowed quickly, and then threw my arms into the air excitedly. "Two in a row, beat that!"

"I have," Oliver growled. "My record is twenty-two, remember?"

"Yeah, in a row that you _didn't_ catch!"

"Shut up."

My dad laughed besides us. "I'd ask, but then I'd have to hear an answer. But hey, I'm going to the grocery store for a little bit… anything you kids need?"

"A dunce hat for Oliver," I said, looking at him with a bright smile. Another piece of popcorn hurdled towards my face, hitting me in the area right below my left eye.

"Ha! Didn't catch that one!" Oliver proclaimed.

My dad rolled his eyes again. "Okay, seriously, anything?"

"Nah. Got everything I need right here," I said, and a weird expression danced across my father's face and then quickly vanished.

"I know you do," he said—even weirder—and then he was out the door calling out a goodbye and that he'd be back soon.

"Weirdo," I said, staring out after him.

"You're the weirdo with popcorn in your hair."

I glared at Oliver as I fussed my fingers through my hair to find it. He grinned shamelessly at me, and just as I was about to strangle him, my savior of a phone from the kitchen table buzzed.

I leapt for it at once, and saw that it was from Lilly, and before Oliver could stop me, I anxiously opened the message.

_One New Message._

_Fr: Lilly_

"_hey, just lettin u kno i'm ok. thx for everything. tell Oliver thx 2."_

I nearly wanted to cry. She wasn't mad at me. She didn't hate me!

Oliver snatched my phone from me. "Lilly's already texting?"

"Then she must be better." I said with a small laugh. "She doesn't hate me either."

"Lilly would never hate you, Miles," Oliver replied. "You're not an easy person to hate."

"Aw, thanks, OliveJar!"

"Don't get used to it, MileHighClub."

* * *

We were alone in my living room. I wasn't quite aware of the fact until I realized the only sound I could hear was him breathing across the room from me, and he wasn't even breathing loudly. It was just that quiet. It was like I was _listening_ for him.

And then I locked eyes with him. He gave me a sympathetic smile, and I tried to smile back, but my mouth rejected the idea and went the opposite. Despite how cheerful I'd been acting, I was beginning to remember Halloween night all over again… the sound of the gunshot… Lilly's mascara streaks, cuts, her sobbing… It was like Michaelangelo had moved into my brain—that's how perfect the painting in my head was becoming.

I was startled back into the present when Oliver rose from his position on the chair to join me on the couch. It was automatic for me to start leaning against him usually, but this time I found myself doing it with hesitance. I almost felt like he'd move from me.

He surprised me, however, when his arm stretched around my shoulders, and his hand grasped my shoulder enough to bring me closer to his chest until my head was there against his heart.

_Thump thump. Thump thump._

I could fall asleep to that noise…

My eyes were feeling heavy, and I could feel sleep creeping into my system. I shifted my head slightly, rubbing my face more against his chest, and his grip around me tightened securely, like he was scared to let go of me. I smiled faintly, and then I noticed his other hand had somehow crept to my hair for it was now being gently twirled and toyed with like yarn.

"Hey Mile?"

I took a quick glance up at him as a reply, and he blinked a few times before responding.

"If anything had happened to you… I'm not sure what I would've done."

I sighed. "You would've been fine. Eventually."

I could feel him shake his head. "No. I wouldn't live."

"You would _not_ kill yourself," I warned, narrowing my eyes.

"No, I could never do that… but I'd never really live again. Like, I'd always be living about twenty percent of how I could be living. You're that other eighty percent."

"What?" I titled my head, staring at the boy who'd just spoken the strangest form of compliment I'd ever received.

"I don't know, it's difficult to explain." The corner of his lips tilted upwards towards his ear as if he were concentrating too hard about something. He didn't bother with trying to start an explanation, either. He found that a staring contest with the floor was so much more interesting.

"Okay then," I said, exaggerating my puzzled tone in hopes it'd make his silence break, but unfortunately, he barely even blinked at my statement.

I dropped my gaze all together, settling for my hand resting in my lap. I had a huge urge to reach out and grab Oliver's closest hand—to tangle our fingers together and really see if they matched as perfectly as they had felt at breakfast earlier.

Suddenly I heard Oliver make a "yacking" sort of noise, and startled, I looked to see him sticking out his tongue in protest at something.

"Your hair was in my mouth," he clarified with disgust.

I rolled my eyes. "What? You don't like the taste of my hair?"

"It does not taste nearly as good as it smells." He froze slightly, realizing what he'd just said.

"You're smelling my hair?" I teased playfully.

"…no."

"Yes you were. _Weiiiirdo_ alert." I turned my gaze form him, not bothering to hide the amusement from my lips.

"You're the one with pumpkin smelling hair."

"Pumpkin?" I laughed. "It's _raspberry _shampoo. How does it smell like _pumpkin_?"

"It just does!"

"Donut."

"Pumpkin head."

He laughed as I pretended to choke him and turned sideways so that he was fully facing me. He tugged at my arms, but I refused to lower them from his neck, and he looked at me with a dangerous smile.

"Don't make me throw you off this couch."

I eyed him. "You wouldn't dare."

Before I knew what was happening he'd set his hands on my waist, and I squeaked as I was hoisted onto him. We were now positioned on the couch with Oliver laying on his back and me… _on top of him_. I don't really think Oliver had thought about how this action would play out because at that moment in time, the delight disappeared off his face, and then he looked confused, and… _concentrated?_

I felt my cheeks burning, and I knew I had to get off of him. I mean, I was pretty much straddling him, and he had his hands just above my waist. I would not allow myself to be in this position with a taken man, as much as I loved the feeling.

Awkwardly I began to slide myself downwards to remove myself, but was startled as I felt his hands grip me to keep me in place. I looked at him in alarm, and he seemed to freeze all together.

As cliché as it sounded, the silence between us was deafening. Maybe there was sound going on around us, I don't know, I just definitely couldn't hear it. My ears were broken. Just like his nose seemed to be earlier.

His mouth twitched to speak, then stopped.

It was then when it came rushing back to me that before Lilly had been robbed, we had almost kissed. And the feeling I felt then—it was happening again. And this time, we were alone. My cell phone was upstairs. His was on the floor somewhere, or just nowhere within my vision…

There would be no interruption this time.

My heart raced as all these thoughts and emotions ran throughout me. I could feel pressure on my bottom lip—I was biting it, roughly in contemplation.

I suppose I was frowning or something of the sort because the confusion in Oliver's face worsened.

"What's wrong?" he said, and I'm not sure how I heard it because it came out so soft.

"…nothing," I whispered.

His brow furrowed, and it was then he probably figured out how uncomfortable I felt. In what he must have thought was a solution, the hands on my waist suddenly went sprinkling against my ribs in a tickling manner. On impulse I busted out laughing at the sensation, and caused myself to crouch my upper body closer to his.

And then the tickling ended.

His eyes must've been merely three or four inches from my own because I could see specks of orange I'd never seen before in them. I couldn't look away. And my breath had been caught in some place with a no return policy.

His hand suddenly met my left cheek. I glanced at it momentarily, not wanting to look away from the orange in his eyes I'd never before witnessed. Who knows if I'd ever have the chance to see it again.

The hand caressed my cheek cautiously—almost like he was shaking. It moved farther past my cheek 'til it was behind my ear, where it lingered, its warmth causing my body to involuntarily shiver.

I wanted to say something. I wanted to know what he was thinking.

But most of all, I wanted him to kiss me.

But he wasn't moving any further. He just kept rubbing that same area tenderly until it sunk in that he looked… frightened. As if he were scared of me.

My body fell limp at some point because I was now pointblank laying down on top of him. I wasn't sure how long I'd been laying down on him, I only realized it when I felt his shirt against the area of my shirt where my stomach was exposed.

At this new sensation my own arm reached out to Oliver's forehead. The rubbing alongside my face subsided, but I didn't stop. I brushed back some of his dark bangs slowly.

He blinked at me, and then he exhaled loudly.

Oh yeah. He was nervous, too.

_And he should be_, said that nagging part of my conscience. _He has a girlfriend. Get off him now. This won't end well._

His fingers continued their dance under my ear, and I somehow found it within me to—to _smile _at him. He seemed surprised at this, as his eyes became slightly larger. But then they reverted, and he was grinning a little bit, too. Not smirking, but grinning. He was going to say something. And I was going to strain to hear it.

And what I heard rendered me speechless.

"God, you—you are beautiful, Miley Stewart."

My smile felt like it could break my jaw. "Really?" I whispered.

"Really," he said softly back.

I kept thinking he'd just lean in and kiss me, but he was just looking at me instead. I was growing almost impatient because part of me knew that being this close to him now would not allow us to walk out of this room without laying our lips on each other.

And the fact that I could feel his breathing against my lips… it was torture.

I _had_ to kiss him. I just _had_ to.

"Oliver…" I said slowly.

"Yeah?" he mumbled.

"I… I'm scared…"

"Of what?"

I didn't say anything. It wasn't like I needed to. He knew what I was talking about. It wasn't about a robber, it wasn't about Lilly, it wasn't about anything that should be scary.

"Miles, I might…" he trailed off, looking indecisive.

"Might…?" I prodded softly.

"I might…" his brows furrowed again, and now he looked frustrated, angry even. I felt myself wanting to shrink back from this new expression, but I didn't budge. And then he finished his statement with an odd word: "_This_."

Before I could register what that could mean, his hand pushed my head downward with great force, and it finally happened.

Oliver was kissing me.

And I could tell he had no intention of stopping.

His hands wandered smoothly over my back as I arched myself against him, craving the unfamiliar, yet delicious taste of his lips on mine. It was like nothing I'd ever dreamed before—kissing Oliver felt like I should've been doing this since we'd met. I couldn't believe I could have been experiencing something so wonderful all these years.

My own fingers weaved throughout his dark locks messily, and I just wanted to pull at it suddenly as his tongue came battling at mine inside my mouth.

From the passion he was displaying, I almost wondered if he'd been, like, waiting for this to happen.

One of his hands dove towards the back of my thighs, and then back upwards to press me more firmly against him. I could feel something that sounded like a moan inside of his mouth, and understanding what made him feel good, I mimicked the motion without any help of his at all. The moan returned, and I grinned into the kiss, sliding a hand downward to play with the area above his jeans.

He had a firm grasp under my thighs now, and I found him thrusting me towards him. I kind of lost myself at this point—I didn't understand how this could be Oliver kissing me, and not some totally sexy stranger… was this honesty what we could've been doing all those times he'd stayed over?!

His fingers seemed to be trembling as they toyed with the back of my shirt. I desperately wanted to stop kissing him to encourage him—that everything that was happening was okay, until the thought really hit me—

This _wasn't_ okay. At all.

_Oliver has a girlfriend. He has an effing GIRLFRIEND._

Literally forcing myself off of him, I pushed on his shoulders and landed myself on the opposite end of the couch, looking at him in wild terror.

He appeared immobile. His back was sunken into the cushions—I had been pushing him down all that time, I realized with a very heavy blush—and his face hadn't even shifted to me in the very slightest.

If it weren't for the sound of his heavy breathing, I'd assume that my kisses had killed him. That's how still he appeared.

I finally chose just to not look at him. He wasn't giving me the pleasure of eye contact, so I figured I shouldn't either.

Nothing in my brain was making sense at the moment. I wasn't sure how I could think at all—if I even was. The only thing that I could focus on was that not even thirty seconds ago, I'd been on top of Oliver—craving his body pushing against mine…

My heart pounded. I considered pinching myself. I considered screaming. But neither happened, luckily, or else I'd look like a crazy person.

I heard a squeak from the couch, and saw Oliver had stood up. For a brief moment, my mind went into a spin and I thought he was going to just… I don't know… pounce back on me, say, "I'm breaking up with Andrea," and never let our bodies separate again.

But he didn't even look at me. His eyes remained focused on the wall. I mean, I'm not the most attractive thing in the world, but I know that ugly color of dirty white wall is less attractive than I am. I found myself ridiculously jealous of it. It hadn't been kissing him. It hadn't been up on him.

_I should've pushed him up on it, though…_

I slightly shook my head at that thought. I was obviously not thinking. I don't think things like this. Ever.

I figured maybe he was going to say something of importance. Something to define what had just happened between us.

But this is Oliver. And for Oliver to be predictable just wouldn't be right.

He said, "I gotta pee."

And he left the room.

Not in the direction of the bathroom either. He ended up walking towards the door like he's never set a foot in my house in his life, and then turning around, saying, "Er, the bathroom's this way," and going towards the stairs like he has set a foot in my house after all.

I realized I'd been holding my breath since we'd stopped kissing and exhaled horrendously loudly. It nearly hurt.

What had just happened could not have just happened.

Because best friends do not kiss each other.

And they certainly do not enjoy doing it.

* * *

**AHHHHH!!!! =) What do you think?! wheeeeeee!!**

**Reviews are lovely.**

**Ta ta!**


	17. the most awkward situation of my life

**Sorry this took so long. I hope you can forgive me. You may hate me after this chapter. It's pretty terrible. Haha.**

_Disclaimer_: Hannah Montana is ending. I wouldn't want it to if I owned it. At least not until Miley and Oliver realize they're made for each other and kiss and stuff.

* * *

**HeartWare  
**by Broken Oken

_chapter sixteen: possibly the most awkward situation of my life_

_

* * *

  
_

There is only so long a person can pee.

So when Oliver emerged nearly twenty minutes later, I believe I had the rights to look confused and accusing. I had many rights. We'd just pretty much freaking _made out_ on my couch, and we hadn't said anything about it, talked it over, what was going on, or anything like that.

He was staring at me at least. Looking a little flushed, but looking at me nonetheless.

I wasn't sure what to say or how to even look back at him. It was a weird feeling, not knowing how to act towards my best friend. The thought of smiling seemed like it would look bad… but frowning would also look bad. Because as strange as it was to do, kissing Oliver was something I wouldn't mind doing again… and again, and again, and again…

I blurred the inappropriate thoughts from my brain, and pushed my focus back into the boy looking at me across the room.

"Soooo…" he finally said, shoving his hands into his pockets. It was pretty much the most awkward presentation of a human being I'd ever seen.

"Sooo," I repeated, setting my hands in my lap, maybe coming in second for the most awkward presentation of a human being I'd ever seen.

"We… we need to talk, huh?" Oliver asked shyly, rocking on his heels.

I let out a strange chuckle—very out of character sounding. "I think so…"

He finally took a seat (thank God, him just standing there made me feel ten million times more nervous than I already was), on the chair opposite of me, of course. I was slightly disappointed, but I think I could see his reasoning. Sitting next to him might have made me have a heart attack.

No one was saying anything, despite the fact we'd just agreed on speaking. I bit my lip, expecting the taste of iron soon from the harsh pressure I was applying when Oliver sighed. "I don't even know what to say honestly."

"Me, uh, either."

"I… I guess I'm sorry?"

"Sorry? Why are you apologizing?" I asked, tilting my head in confusion. As far as I was concerned, it wasn't like he'd been _raping_ me. I'd been responding with just as much passion as him… er, _passion?_

"Cause, like, I don't know—I wasn't, uh, thinking."

That hurt more than it should have.

"O-Oh," I tried to keep the shake from my voice, "Yeah. Me either."

He cringed quickly, almost fast enough for me to miss it, but not quite. I mean, I was pretty much looking at him now as if he were under a magnifying glass. I had to search for any sign of what could really be going on in that brain of his…

"I have a girlfriend," Oliver stated, and then turned away from me, looking horrified. "_I have a girlfriend_." And after he repeated it, he pushed his face into his hands.

I didn't know what to say but, "I'm sorry," like an idiot.

He lifted his face; it was squished with agony. "What am I gonna do?" He wasn't facing me yet, so I didn't know if the question was directed at me or not. When I didn't say anything, he took a glance at me.

I blurted, "I'm sorry," again.

"No, Miley," he sighed. "Don't—don't apologize. This, this is my fault."

"I kissed back."

His eyes went slightly larger, and I realized it was the first time we'd acknowledged what had really happened with clarity.

"It's okay. I started it."

I frowned at him, about to reply (with what, I wasn't sure) when I heard a rustling of keys at the door, and it swung open, revealing my dad standing there with two giant bags of groceries. My heartbeat quickened, wondering if he'd heard anything from the past few minutes.

"Little help, guys?" I heard him ask, and it was obvious he had no idea he'd interjected an important conversation, despite the fact that I had no idea where it was going in the first place.

Oliver got to his feet and did this thing with his face that showed he was trying to hold back some kind of expression. I knew most of his facial expressions, and so I knew that he was definitely hiding one right then.

Dad handed the groceries to him, and I finally realized I'd just been sitting there not helping at all and ran out to the car to retrieve a few more plastic bags. I reached into the backseat, pulling up two sacks, and when I turned around, my body nearly smashed into Oliver's, and we both looked at each other with crimson cheeks.

"Excuse me," we began at the same time, both making a dart for the same direction, thus getting us closer when we had desired the opposite. (Or maybe not, in my case.)

I watched his Adam's apple rise slowly before he cleared his throat, and he wove around me to reach into the back.

I could barely breathe, but I made a swift walk back into the house anyways.

Yeah. Things weren't going to be awkward at all…

* * *

Dad knew something was going on.

Oh, he s_o_ knew.

He'd be stupid _not_ to have known with how distant Oliver and I were being with each other.

"So, you guys never finished your popcorn?" Dad asked, nodding towards the bowl on the floor I'd forgotten about until he'd brought it up.

His question was so innocent, but it produced many, many images in my mind of why the popcorn was lying there unfinished.

"Yeah, not hungry," I said, before realizing I was digging my hand into a bag of new Doritos. Oliver looked at me nervously, and I half choked.

"Right." My dad gave me an amused expression before turning back to the T.V. "So what's new? I haven't had the chance to ask you guys about college. Liking your classes?"

"Mhm."

"Yep."

God, we both sounded like we hated it.

"Boyfriends? Girlfriends?"

Oliver made an interesting gulping noise, and my dad looked at him in alarm. I suddenly felt like I needed a bottle of water, and fast.

"Y-Yeah, I have a girlfriend…"

I wanted to throw up.

"Oh yeah? Tell me about her."

"I don't like her," I said loudly, completely butting in unintentionally, and then wanting to run away to like, Boston or somewhere else far away where blurts like that would just end my humiliating life for me.

My dad smiled about this. Probably because he's crazy and finds my random negativity about Andrea enlightening.

"Oh yeah?"

I noticed Oliver staring at me also, looking both curious and horrified. I knew that this would be a good chance of telling him how I really felt about Andrea, because my dad was present, and Oliver could never yell at me in front of my dad. He has respect for the older weirdo. For whatever reason.

"Yeah. She doesn't let me see Oliver."

As it came out of my mouth, I realized that maybe Andrea wasn't being so cruel and horrible after all. Up until earlier, Oliver and I had not crossed any friendship boundaries, so that was why I was so pissed off about not being able to see him anymore. Because I thought she was crazy for thinking anything would happen between us.

And now, well, it most certainly had. It wasn't my imagination. I could still feel the velvet of Oliver's lips massaging mine.

I blushed heavily. Andrea had sensed this from the beginning. And I was sitting here, complaining about how she was overprotective. She probably _should_ be overprotective. Because after that kiss, it was going to take one hell of an effort to keep me from doing it again.

"Oh, she's just insecure," my dad said, waving his hands because as far as he knew, nothing was going on between Oliver and I, like it had been our whole lives. "If anything would've happened between you two, I'm sure it would have already, right?"

The query was horrifying, and I had no idea if it was rhetorical or not, so I didn't answer, just laughed a little too loudly, and Oliver had turned into an icicle or something else that didn't move or speak.

Luckily for us, my dad chose this moment to get up from his seat. "Well, that bathroom ain't gonna clean itself," he sighed.

"Need help?" I asked anxiously—hoping for any kind of excuse to get me away from Oliver. Being alone with him again, as uncomfortable as it was, kind of thrilled me with the possibilities.

"Nah, you go hang out with Mr. Oken. Get yourself some R&R."

And just like that, my totally oblivious father walked away, and I watched him, trying not to twitch.

I could feel Oliver's eyes zapping lasers into the back of my head.

Slowly I turned back around, biting my lip again, and in an instant, Oliver stood up and interrupted anything I could have said, "Listen, Miley, I—I think we need—I need to take a nap."

Of course, I was furious. "What?! You can't nap right now! We need to talk about this!"

"Miley, I, I don't really know what to say—my mind is kind of spinning and—"

"So you're just gonna leave me here?!" I wasn't sure why, but my eyes suddenly felt heavy with water.

"Your dad's here, Miley—"

"You said you'd be here! And then—then you _kiss_ me!"

"Shh!" Oliver looked at the stairs fearfully.

"Oh, so you _don't_ want people to know we kissed?!"

"Miley—"

"I HATE YOU!"

I know it made no sense to scream, and I was being extremely overdramatic, but there was really nothing else I wanted to yell at that moment. It sounded perfect the millisecond I'd thought it, so it came spilling from my lips immediately. Oliver looked taken aback at the words, and then I realized what I said, and _I _started crying.

He came over to me and hugged me, but this time, I didn't feel safe. I felt unwanted. I shoved him away, shouting things like, "Don't touch me," and "go away."

His arms eventually retreated back to his sides, and he stepped back a little ways. "Miley… I'm sorry…"

"I don't care," I hissed, staring at the ground.

He left after that. I didn't watch him exit, of course; I only heard the harsh slam of our front door a moment later.

I sat myself down on the couch, no longer crying, but feeling like vomiting at how I felt at the time.

Slowly I let my head hit the couch's pillow, and I stared at nothingness.

I wanted to talk to someone, _anyone_, about what had just happened, what I should do, and how to get over how I'd been treated like I didn't matter. I needed someone to listen to me.

But the usual person I'd turn to—

_He was the one making me feel like this._

* * *

I guess I took a nap because I awoke to some of my own drool smashing against my face. I lifted my head quickly, and for a moment, thought that maybe everything had been a dream, and Oliver and I had never kissed after all.

But when I grabbed my phone to check the time, and checked to see if I had anything new, I knew what had happened was the real deal.

_One Missed Call.  
Fr: Oliver_

_Text Message  
Fr: Oliver  
"__Miley, I'm sorry, and I really want to talk to you. Please call me."_

_Text Message  
Fr: Oliver  
"__I hope you're not ignoring me. I really need to talk to you. It's important."_

_Text Message  
Fr: Oliver  
"__screw it, if you don't care, then I don't have anything to say after all."_

My anger fumed, and I immediately dialed his number. He answered with a rude tone on the second ring, "Hello?"

"I was taking a nap!" I shrieked.

"Sure."

"Whatever, Oliver, if you're just going to be an asshole, I don't want to talk to you!"

"I really don't want to talk to you either."

_Ouch. That stung a little bit._

"O-Okay," I said, trying to keep the sadness from my tone. "Then I'm hanging up."

"Good."

I wasn't sure why I said the next thing, I mean, I knew it was me overreacting out of anger, but I still couldn't believe I said it so naturally:

"FUCK YOU, OLIVER!"

"FUCK YOU, TOO!"

I gasped. "DON'T SAY THAT TO ME!"

"You said it first!"

"I _hate _you!" I yelled for a second time that day, knowing neither case held true meaning, but it still felt good to scream.

"I—don't hate you, but you're being a crazy bitch right now!"

"Then how come you don't hate me!" I shouted, though part of me had calmed down at what he had said.

"You're my best friend!"

"Doesn't seem like it. You don't want to talk to me, _remember_?"

"I—I don't know why I said that."

I stayed silent for a moment, processing this. "So you _do_ want to talk to me?"

He was silent for a moment as well. "Yes."

"So… come over."

"Okay."

"Alright."

"Bye."

"Bye."

It was literally the strangest phone call I'd ever had. I'd been seconds away from practically killing myself with how upset I'd felt when he said he didn't want to talk to me, and then, the conversation switched to a calmer one, and I felt the happiest since our random make-out session.

Ten minutes later, Oliver indeed came hesitantly stepping into the house. We looked at each other, and he must've read my mind, and chose to sit next to me on the couch because I had been wishing he'd sit there.

"I'm sorry for saying 'fuck you'," was the first thing I said, and I can't believe it, but he grinned at this.

"No you're not. You probably have been dying to say that to me for years for all the times I've driven you crazy."

"I guess so."

"I'm sorry for saying it back. I just didn't know how to handle that—that anger. I don't think I've ever heard you so mad."

"That's cause you drive me crazy."

He bobbed his head sideways, smiling at me softly. "In a good way, I hope."

"Apparently not. You turned me into a crazy bitch, remember?"

He winced. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize. I was being one. Just like you were being a dick."

"Yeah, I was."

The room grew quiet again, and I knew the conversation was approaching the topic I feared: our kiss… es. _It was plural after all…_

"So, we kissed," I blurted. I knew there was no other way to say it because the options in my head seemed to make it more awkward than it already was. And I figured there was no beating around the bush.

I feared his response, though. I honestly could not tell you what I wanted him to say. But his intense stare at me was freaking me out, and not exactly how I wanted him to be looking at me right now.

"We… kissed," he said finally.

Which, you know, did not advance the conversation.

And neither did my follow up of, "Yeah."

But whatever.

"I don't want things to be weird between us," he said, sounding uncomfortable.

"Uh, me either."

"I have a girlfriend…"

An unfamiliar pain stabbed me when he said this.

"I—I don't know what to do," he looked spaced out and then back towards me. My mind spun. I wasn't sure what his statement referred to… was he saying that he was _considering leaving her for me?_

Did—did I want to be with Oliver? Could I imagine spending evenings together at fancy restaurants and holding hands at the movies, and kissing at the red lights in the car?

Before I could register a real answer, he made the decision easy in my head when he said, "I can't end things with her."

Because at the moment he'd said it, I felt myself falling.

And no one was catching me.

And I wanted someone to catch me… _Oliver_ to catch me.

"She needs me right now with this Lilly thing," he went on, "And I do really like her, and—and I know you probably wouldn't want us to, uh, risk things, and I think that was just a 'caught in the moment' kind of thing, you know… right?"

I continued falling into nothing, and I struggled to remember how to smile and nod like I was truly all right with everything.

_He was only caught in the moment._ He hadn't wanted to really kiss me after all. He didn't spend all his life savoring the moment when we'd finally meet lips, when I'd finally reciprocate those feelings…

I said something like, "Yeah," as my response. I think. I was kind of in shock.

He sighed a big sigh, like he was relieved. "Good. Cause I really don't want things weird between us. You're my best friend, Miles."

He put an arm around me, and I wanted to cry. This wasn't right. This wasn't how the movies made it happen. When the best friends kiss, they screw over everything else just to be with each other. They take the risk on friendship because they believe their friendship is strong enough to withstand an eventual break-up, if one would occur.

But I guess Oliver didn't think our friendship was that strong.

Lilly was wrong; Oliver's not in love with me.

I'm in love with him.

* * *

Oliver didn't spend any more time alone with me during our time back in Malibu. He explained that it would be awkward for him still, and I, of course, didn't know what to say, so I nodded my agreement and out the door he went.

I missed him instantly.

I wanted to run out there after him, wave him down with some crazy swinging arms, and then when he stopped to look at me, heavy rainfall would suddenly crash down upon us at the exact moment we locked eyes, and we'd be just like a cliché, and we wouldn't care or need to say anything, just lunge at each other and kiss until there wasn't a kiss left in us anymore.

But I didn't leave my house. I didn't run out there after him because he didn't want me to follow. I didn't wave him down with some crazy swinging arms because I could barely lift a finger around him anyways. He wouldn't look at me because I wouldn't be swinging my arms to get his attention. The rain wouldn't come pouring down because it's Malibu and rain is rare. We wouldn't be a cliché cause none of this would ever happen, and we would care because this situation is a crazy mess we're only avoiding when we think we aren't. And there'd be no lunging and certainly no kissing because Oliver has a girlfriend, and kissing me was only a caught in the moment kind of thing, which wouldn't be happening since there'd be no moment to begin with.

The next day I was walking into the kitchen where Dad was currently fixing me tacos for dinner.

He is a psychic sometimes, I swear, because he somehow knew I was depressed merely just by the way I was walking.

"What's wrong?" he immediately asked.

I was taken aback and put forth my best smile. "Nothing."

"No, I know when something's bothering you." He patted the stool next to the counter. "Take a seat, and let's talk about it."

"Dad, there's nothing to talk about," I said, but taking the seat anyways.

"If it's about a boy, you can tell me. Just cause I'm your Dad doesn't mean I'm not knowledgeable about boys. I used to be one, you know."

I wanted to choke, but I kept my composure. "If I said it was about a boy, what would be the first thing you'd say?"

"I'd say, 'Well, do I need to kill him?'"

"Dad."

"Seriously. I got a shotgun."

I chuckled. "You don't need to kill anyone. But hypothetically, what if I told you that I really liked this boy—"

"I'm getting the shotgun."

"DAD!"

"Kidding. Sort of. Go on."

I slightly smiled. Dad was one male in this world who truly cared about me; that was for sure. "Well, if I told you I really lov—_liked_ this boy, and he doesn't like me back… what would you tell me to do?"

"I'd say he doesn't deserve you."

"Dad…"

"No, seriously. He's a waste of time. If he doesn't like you back, then you don't need to like him. He'll only cause you to come crying home to Malibu every weekend in the long run, and I'm not gonna see my babygirl upset. I want to see you coming home every once in awhile, with a giant smile because of some boy who does like you, and wants to be with you."

I blinked at my dad's words, and he grinned before going on, "Trust me. I know there's a boy out there for you _just_ like that."

I scrunched my nose. "No you don't."

"Yes, I do," he said again, making his way over to the refrigerator and pulling out some milk. "You just gotta open your eyes."

"My eyes _are_ open, Dad. And all it gets me is nowhere."

He walked over to me with his glass of milk and set his free hand down on my shoulder. "Your eyes may be open, darlin', but they're not seeing."

I raised an eyebrow. "What's there to see?"

He removed his hand and went towards the living room. "Just give up on this dumb boy you like right now. He's not worth it. Forget about him—find someone else who _will_ give you everything you want. Forget this guy and how he makes you feel."

I placed my chin into the palms of my hands and subtly nodded.

"Okay."

And it was done.

* * *

**Are you going to kill me? Possibly? Tell me then in a review. :D mk, byeee.**


	18. can you say, plan backfired?

**Yay for an update! I've been meaning to finish this sooner, but I've been working on an audition for Glee instead. Ha. And let's just say I need a lot more help singing than I do writing. :p**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter. I tried not to rush through the chapter this time! Taking my criticism, which was truly appreciated! :D I believe this chappy leaves a bit of a cliffhanger. :)**

**Disclaimer: Of course not, silly.**

* * *

**HeartWare  
**by Broken Oken

_chapter seventeen: can you say, 'plan backfired'?_

* * *

I already knew that returning to the college world would be tricky from the moment my dad voluntarily proclaimed he'd drive both Oliver and I there. Oliver, of course, didn't even remark the most miniscule of complaints, which as irritating as it was, it was the right decision. We couldn't bear to let father dear have another reason to raise wary brows.

Along the way to our destination, I tried and mostly failed to focus most of the conversation on pointless things—things my dad would be more likely respond to, and not Oliver. I felt that at any point where there could be silence, my mind would resume cluttered-ness and confusion and start replaying a vivid memory of a certain _something_ that had occurred two days ago. With my dad's voice booming eighty-percent of the car ride, it would aid in blocking these thoughts, even if it were for only a moment. I just needed to, forevermore, think about un-Oliver related things. It was my dad's wish, and more importantly, mine as well.

There lies a problem in what seemed to be this foolproof plan; however, and that is that Oliver is my best friend. Mostly _everything_ reminds me of him. I never thought I'd want to regret the zillions of memories we've made over the years, but it would definitely help me out a bit. I mean, even a stupid blade of grass could spark a time we hung out or an inside joke or something.

After a near two hour-long suffocation of awkwardness, we finally arrived to the university. I promptly kissed my dad goodbye, jumped out of the car and noticed Oliver had already planted his cell phone to his ear.

"Yeah, babe, just got back… I'm excited to see you, too…"

I frowned, but I couldn't show that it hurt. I didn't feel anything for Oliver—or, well, I did, I just wasn't going to let myself anymore.

I opted the frown for what I hoped to be a blank expression and hurried by him, praying that he wouldn't be able to catch even the slightest glimpse of unhappiness trailing across my face. I told myself to breathe, and that I had more important things to worry about—like Lilly.

My dorm room door was already thrown open when I got there, and my heart skipped a beat. _She was here?!_ Anxiety coursed through my whole body, and immediately I dashed inside to surprisingly see that Lilly was, indeed, present, currently digging through her closet in a frantic manner. My instinct yelled for me to jump on her, and so that's what I did, completely disrupting her from whatever she was doing.

"Lilly!" I nearly sobbed. "I'm sorry! I'm so so _so_ sorry! Are you okay?!"

And she did the most amazing thing… she _laughed_. Laughed! As if she hadn't been almost killed last week or anything.

"I'm fine," she muttered behind my ear. "Just some bruises… that kinda… hurt on my _sides_…"

She sent the message clearly; I immediately left off of her. "Oh my gosh, I'm sorry!"

She giggled, again stunning me. "No big."

"Are you… okay?" I stared at her in bewilderment. I knew for a fact that if I had gone through what she had, I'd still be at home, bawling in a bathtub until I'd created my own bathwater.

"You just asked that!" she said with another shocking laugh. "And yes, I'm _fine_. I'm a tough girl. I've been through a lot of bloody noses and lips from sports and stuff."

"But, Lilly… you… you could've been—"

"Shh! I don't wanna talk about this right now!" she shooed me away with a hand. "I have better news."

I couldn't see how anything could be better news than Lilly being alive and healthy and actually smiling, but I nodded my head to allow her to continue anyways.

"I have a _legit_ date this weekend."

And _then_ I understood why she wasn't so worked up over all that had happened.

"Really?" I grinned. "Who's the lucky guy?"

"Some guy named Trevor. Apparently having your near-death story in a newspaper attracts cuties because Andrea promises a 9 on the 1-10 hotness scale, so I think I'm pretty pumped. And he's obviously already seen me, and he told Andrea that he thinks I'm a 9 as well. _Eep_!"

I laughed at her as she clapped her hands together excitedly. I was glad that she could take her life's negatives and change them into positives, and sure, it was nice not having to endure the awkwardness of what had happened that night, but I still wanted to know more. Like, if the guy was caught, who he was… and all that stuff.

"Soooo, where's he taking you?" I asked, sitting down on my bed as she continued to smile like a crackhead.

"Well, we're going to the movies with Andrea and Oliver Friday as a double date kind of thing."

There's a thing hearts are, I realize, and that would be that they are uncontrollable. As soon as Lilly's words flew into my ears, my heart literally felt like it had been dropped off the Sear's Tower. It wasn't supposed to react like that; it was supposed to stay in tact, skip no beats, and just _be_… How could I go about forgetting Oliver-related feelings when my heart had other plans, such as being rebellious to my brain?

I somehow heard the next part, despite the screaming and fighting ensuing in my body. "…And _then_ we're hitting up some frat party Andrea got invited to. Which reminds me, I'm supposed to invite you as well."

Not a single part of me believed this nonsense. I don't think I could ever seriously hear Andrea say the words, "Oh yeah, let's invite Miley!" and mean them. Perhaps she was already drunk when she told Lilly this.

Automatically I had to state my thoughts aloud with an unintentional question, "She wants me to go?"

Lilly gave me an odd look. "Why wouldn't she?"

I quickly changed my stunned expression and came up with, "Oh, I don't know. I, uh, we just don't talk much." It wasn't _exactly_ a lie. Andrea and I did avoid verbal contact just as much as eye contact.

"Right." The odd stare remained on her face for a few more seconds, before she smiled again. _Thank God for this Trevor guy, whoever he may be._ "So how was your time in Malibu?"

Instantly I pictured myself on top of Oliver, kissing him fiercely, and my whole face was filled with a burning sensation. My heart had gotten to my brain now, convincing it that emotions for Oliver were still at a higher-than-friendship level. I didn't want to picture the scene, but it was swamping my whole head now in a crystal clear format. It was almost like I could _feel_ it…

I remembered I was in the middle of a conversation and turned from Lilly at once, pretending to be absorbed in my nails, when really it was with how they'd felt in between Oliver's locks of hair.

"O-Oh, it was okay I guess," I mumbled, only vaguely hiding the confusion rotting my brain. "Good seeing my dad."

"I bet," she answered, sounding completely oblivious to any emotion I could accidentally be showing. "Well, I'm gonna go head to the gym to meet Andrea. You're welcome to join."

I shook my head immediately. Seeing Andrea would be horrible. Who knows what I'd accidentally slip out around her. All I know is that I'd be thinking of how I'd willingly kissed—no, _made out_ with her boyfriend. And I was suddenly feeling very eager to do that again.

I thought of an excuse quickly, "Nah, I got a lot of homework to catch up on."

"Yeah, that's cool," Lilly said, looking unoffended, thank the Lord. "I'll talk to you later?"

"Uh, yep."

"See ya later then! Bye!"

"Bye!"

And out the door with her gym bag Lilly went.

And in swept the true emotions onto my face. Because Oliver and I had forgotten one _very important_ aspect of our little… whatever it was called. What if—what if Oliver told Andrea about it?! And that was why she wanted me to go to the gym? So that she could throw dumbbells on me, or drop heavy weights on me as I tried to lift them?

Immediately I dug into the depths of my purse for my cell phone and successfully pulled it out after about thirty seconds. I had no new messages, but I hurriedly pressed 'reply' to an old one Oliver had sent me.

"_ur not going 2 tell andrea about what happened right?"_

After pressing send, I waited another two bloodcurdling minutes before my phone buzzed.

One New Message.

Fr: Oliver

"_are u crazy? no way. she would KILL me."_

I sighed in relief. "_ok good. Im not telling any1."_

Another minute: "_yeah me neither. our little secret."_

I bit my lip.

Yeah. Our dirty little secret.

* * *

Things with Oliver improved, at least when it came to being around each other. Chemistry wasn't really giving us much chance to talk, but when we did, he must have been ignoring that part of his brain that had kissed me while I was _attempting_ the same thing. He made it so ridiculously difficult, though. There were all these times in Chemistry when he'd innocently tap my back with pencil, and I'd turn around, and he'd be leaning over his desk, dangerously too close, and tell me a witty joke, and everything within me was telling me to just kiss him again.

But I couldn't. Because I wouldn't. It was against my plan.

Unfortunately, I don't think that was the reason I was resisting. I wanted it to be, and repeatedly tried persuading myself into thinking that was the only thing stopping, but I knew I was lying. My piece of crap heart had shown up at my brain's door, swaying myself to believe that the only explanation to why I couldn't kiss Oliver was because…

Because he had Andrea. The girlfriend factor. That person I now wanted to be. She knew what it was like, on a regular basis, to open mouth kiss my best friend, when I'd only had the pleasure of having it once. I was downright jealous of the girl. I wanted to hold Oliver's hand. He'd certainly never try that again…

Andrea was a girl I rarely saw over the next few weeks except in small glances, but I really felt that I lived with her with how much I was starting to know about her. I knew her favorite color was lime green, but then she switched it to maroon, and then back to lime green again. I knew she was dying to cut her hair off because her long hair was continually in the way, but she preferred long hair so that's why she kept it. I swear that maybe I even knew her social security number. _That_ was how much Oliver talked about her. I wasn't sure if he was doing it to just to hurt me, or to remind himself that he had a girlfriend.

I really hoped it was the latter because I wanted him to want me, and know that I wasn't the only one of us that would go through random daydreams during class periods, daydreams where we'd be hanging out, then suddenly on top of each other…

I didn't _want_ to want him, but it was starting to feel like I still did. It was like my idea had backfired, shooting in the completely opposite direction, to an area where I thought about Oliver even more than I did before I'd made the plan. It was ridiculous. It was going against my daddy's wishes, and he was a smart man, so it was best to listen to him. But my heart seems to be louder over the words he'd been saying.

Anyways, it was a few days before Friday of the big party, and I was sitting in my dorm with Lilly when Oliver came abruptly knocking on our open door. Lilly looked up from her homework.

"Andrea's not here," she said in monotone, like it was an automatic thing to say to his presence. I wondered if she and Oliver were in some kind of pact to continually ruin my day.

He chuckled. "_Actually_, I'm here to see Miley."

"You are?" I said, standing up, trying not to shake at the ideas of why he'd want to see me, but knowing every single one of them were made of false hope.

"Yeah, I mean, if that's alright," he said sarcastically. "Kinda been missing you lately."

I withheld the giant smile trying to force its way onto my lips as my heart quickened hungrily at the words. _He missed me? How cute…_

I'd thought the words before I could stop myself. It wasn't cute. I didn't like him that way. _He's your best friend, Miley,_ I told myself bitterly, _THE END._ _With a P.S. of really nice, kissable lips…_

"Miley?" I blinked at the feminine call of my name, and saw that both Lilly and Oliver were examining me strangely. "You okay?" Lilly continued. "You kind of spaced out there for a second."

"Yeah!" I rushed to respond. "Yeah, I'm fine. I—I missed you, too, Oliver."

He smiled, and I tried my best not to melt. "Good to know."

He took a seat down next to me, and I instinctively moved away from him an inch as a precaution. If I were to accidentally touch hips with him, I could die, and I was too young for that.

"So… what's been up?" I tried lamely.

"Oh, you know, school kicking my ass, the usual," he said, stretching his arms and then landing backwards onto my bed. A few weeks ago, I would've joined him in that action with a cheery little laugh, but that was _then_, you know, _before_ "things" had occurred.

We were on a bed. And laying down on a bed together—whether Oliver would admit it or not—could cause another mishap in our friendship. Another thing was that Lilly was still in the room. And Lilly would tell Andrea about any suspicious behavior going on between the two of us. Me laying down next to Oliver? That was probably suspicious behavior, right?

So I sat there instead, toying with the ends of my hair like an idiot.

"How about you?" he asked, as usual people do.

"Ohh… just nothing really…"

More silence progressed, and when I looked up, I saw Lilly gazing at me like I had suddenly grown an arm from my neck.

"What's going on here?" she demanded. "You guys are acting like you're complete strangers to each other."

Oliver sat up immediately to answer. Good thing, too, because I had just had the wind knocked out of me at that one. "Whattaya mean?" he asked simply.

She scrunched her face a little bit. "You are acting all—all awkward with each other. "

"No, we're not," we answered simultaneously, glancing at each other curiously at the coincidence.

"Yes, you are." She set down the textbook, now looking determined. "_What_ is going on?"

"Uh," was my reply.

Luckily Oliver's was better. "We just got in an argument, and are just getting over it still. That's all."

Lilly blinked, looking at me doubtfully as I forced an uncomfortable smile, and then she sprung her suspicious face back at Oliver. "Oh."

"Yeah, that's why I came over, to hopefully get our friendship back on tracks again." He smiled at me and wrung an arm tightly around my neck to bring me into him, something he used to always do. But again, this was a different time, so I noticed different things, like how his arm muscles had grown even more, and that his beautifully scented cologne felt heavy in my nostrils, and that I couldn't help but want to stay in that position forever.

Lilly still looked unconvinced, but shrugged nonetheless. "_Whaaatever_. I'm too busy to try and understand you weirdos." She stood up, taking her textbook with her. "I'm gonna go to the library and let you guys chit-chat then. I don't wanna make things any more uncomfortable."

I wanted to yell for her to stay because Lilly was such a nice thing to have in the room at the moment. I wasn't sure what would go down after her leaving the room. But I didn't speak any objections. And Oliver didn't either. We simply said our farewells, and Lilly left, thankfully convincing me she still had no idea what was _really_ going on.

Oliver and I sat there peacefully for awhile, making small talk, but not bothering to acknowledge the suspicion Lilly displayed. Our conversation was honestly going nowhere, and Oliver realized that, too, because he stretched again and said something about it getting late.

I nodded, and while we normally would hug goodbye, something else fortunately (unfortunately?) less intimate happened instead.

He came forward to embrace me, but then stopped halfway, looking ridiculous as he did so. "Erm… uh…" he stuck an arm out.

I couldn't even believe it. He wasn't even going to hug me anymore.

I forced a smile like I've been doing since forever, and stuck my hand into his as well, ignoring the surge of electricity that coursed though me as the fingers made contact. For a brief moment, I wondered if he felt it, too, because he froze a moment before finally giving my hand a good shake.

"See ya tomorrow in Chem?" he asked, releasing our physical connection.

"Sure thing."

"Great! See ya then!"

"Byeee…"

Without another word, Oliver exited the room. I stared hatefully down at my bare feet, the words Oliver had said pounding into my brain:

""_Yeah, that's why I came over, to hopefully get our friendship back on tracks again."_

Yeah, a big old train ride to nowhere I wanted it to go.

* * *

It was finally the night of the party, and I was going alone. _Awesome_. Not really.

Lilly left early for the big double date, and I congratulated her like a good roomie should. She sensed my loneliness and offered to cancel and stay with me longer, but really, like I could _seriously_ do that to her. She was still in recovery mode from the last party we attended together (she still refused to talk to me about it), and she was way too excited about Trevor for me to be selfish.

I waved her onwards, even though she kept pestering me if I was all right, and eventually I ended up pushing her out the door so she could get a move on to Andrea's already.

I occupied myself with some T.V., but finally shut it off when _Jayy TV_ came on. Like I really needed anything else annoying in my life.

Eventually I got myself all make-up-ified and dressed-up in a yellow halter and jean Capri's. I unfortunately realized this didn't really take much time since I still had thirty minutes left to kill, so I quickly decided to do something fancy with my hair by putting it into perfect little banana curls.

I stared at myself in the mirror when I was all finished, not really believing the result. I actually looked… _pretty_.

I smiled in accomplishment and decided that I needed to leave in the positive attitude I was feeling. And so that's exactly what I did.

The party was held a few blocks down in a frat house. I knew Oliver didn't belong to a fraternity, so I knew he probably had to have bribed the entry guys to let him in for free… with girls, it was easy, all girls got in free to frats all the time.

I arrived kind of embarrassed that no one was by my side, but quickly got over it once I started noticing all of the looks I was receiving from everyone. Guys were… _checking me out_. And the girls they were with, were all glaring.

Yeah, I felt pretty good about myself to say the least.

Of course, I paid no one any real attention because my main priority was to find Lilly or Oliver. Preferably Lilly, because Oliver was sure to be in some company that I _didn't_ feel like seeing, if you get what I mean.

I spotted Lilly at long last, chatting it up with a tall, dark-haired boy I assumed to be Trevor. He had glasses… but, I must say, he was pretty dang attractive. And he was smiling down at Lilly, an expression she was definitely returning, and I felt pretty ecstatic for her. She deserved a good Friday night.

I approached her with caution, not truly wanting to interrupt, but then she saw me and waved me over eagerly. "Miley!" she called gleefully. "Come over here!"

I happily obliged, and she smiled hugely at me. Oh yeah, she was _so_ having a good Friday night.

"You look so pretty tonight, Miley!" she squealed, taking a hand to one of my curls. "You need to do my hair like that sometime!"

"Will do," I said with a small chuckle, and then made an eye movement to Trevor, who looked kind of out of place at the conversation topic.

"Oh!" she looked embarrassed, in a cute sort of way. "Oh geez, sorry! Miley, this is Trevor. Trevor, this is Miley."

"Nice to meet you," Trevor said politely, and I offered the same response when I noticed Oliver was standing in the next room. He was hard to miss actually, he was wearing a bright green polo, something I'd certainly never seen, and he… he looked pretty nice in it. He hadn't noticed me yet; he was talking to a couple of other guys.

Wait a minute. Without… Andrea?

Lilly must've noticed me looking so puzzled and explained sadly and almost ashamedly, "Andrea's kinda been drinking since before dinner today… she's somewhere here in one of the bathroom's throwing up. We offered to help her, but she insisted for us to leave her alone, so, well, we did. Been kinda worried about her, but she's been texting me that she's still okay, and doesn't want her to ruin our fun tonight."

"Oh." I stared over at Oliver for a while, sort of glad for the absence of the ice princess, and then sort of hoping she was there so I could force myself not to eye him up and down like I was kind of doing. He finally saw me—hopefully me not checking him out, of course—and smiled. He seemed to tell the three guys he was talking to goodbye before sauntering over, causing a faster beating in my chest until I took note of something he _did_ have with him… a plastic red cup in his hand.

"You're drinking now?" I asked instead of greeting.

He smiled guiltily. "Just thought I'd try it… You should, too. Let's lose our drunk virginities together!" His light-heartedness already told me the alcohol was already taking an effect.

I shook my head. "I'd rather not."

"C'mon, Miiiiiley," he pouted his lips. "It'll be a good time. My girlfriend's sick, and I need me a dancing partner for tonight!"

I couldn't tell if this was serious or not, but I sort of hated what he said. For two reasons. One, he was making me sound like a _replacement_, and two, I hated it more because I _wanted_ to be the replacement.

I rolled my eyes. "Oliver, maybe you should stop drinking."

"Psh," he gave me a half-smile. "Maybe you should start."

"Don't tell me what to do," I said, and without much thinking, stuck my tongue out at him in a flirtatious manner.

He reciprocated well by holding the cup close to my face. "C'mon, Smiiiiley, I know you waaant to. Drinky drinky!"

"Get that away from me!" I said, half-giggling, half-serious.

"Not until you take a sip!"

"No!"

"Pleeeeeease? For me?"

I crossed my arms, looking at him amusedly. He was acting like the Oliver I knew before we'd kissed, and I enjoyed it. What I didn't like was that it was taking _alcohol_ for him to do it. He was obviously tipsy, maybe even drunk already. And somehow, I figured, _oh, what the heck,_ and grabbed the cup and took myself a heavy sip.

The beer tasted _terrible_, and I coughed disgustedly. Oliver laughed.

"An acquired taste, my dear," he told me.

"I sure hope so," I said, pushing the cup back to him.

"Looks like you two worked everything out?" Lilly's voice prompted from behind me, startling me since I had forgotten for a moment that Oliver and I weren't the only ones in the room. He made me get that way somehow.

"Of course, she's my bestie!" Oliver said way-too-happily and jammed an arm around my waist, way too close to touching my butt so I jumped a little.

Despite the surprise, that position felt comfortable, and I hated to admit it.

Lilly smiled at us and then continued to talk to Trevor. I was pretty thankful for that distraction, or else I was sure she'd be making remarks about where Oliver's hand was lying.

He'd yet to let go of holding me, but I couldn't really put the full blame on him… I'd yet to remove myself from him either after all.

Suddenly there was a shorter brown-haired kid standing in front of us greeting Oliver, so I figured they knew each other somehow. I stayed silent with a smile; I always hated situations where you felt third-wheeled. Then the kid took a glance at me with a smirk, and asked something that definitely got my blood boiling, "Ooh, so is this the infamous _Andrea_?"

I wanted to punch something. I could _not_ handle being compared to _her_. I was not a damn replacement. In my mind, in my fantasy little world, _she _was the replacement of _me_.

"I'm Miley actually," I clarified with a little too much hostility, and the guy looked taken aback.

"Whoa, so you already yourself another girl, eh, Oliver? Atta playa!"

Oliver finally figured out what the guy was getting at and put his arm back at his side instead of mine. I was then pretty sure this guy, whoever he was, was evil.

"Ohhhh noo," Oliver exaggerated, "this is my best friend. Miley. Andrea's sick. Miley, Charlie. Charlie, Miley."

"Ohh, so is she _unattached_?" Charlie asked as if I wasn't standing right there or anything.

I looked at Oliver in annoyance, and he had a weird expression. "Um… no, she's… not."

"Well, then, how are _yoouuu_ doin'?" he asked me in a horrendous Joey Tribiani impression.

"Just great," I muttered, wanting to just run away or something. I was in no way, shape, or form attracted to this guy. He was obviously a little bit wasted, and he was coming off a little too strong for my taste.

"You and Oliver should join me in a beer pong tournament just down the hall here."

"Um, actually, I was just going to go talk to my friend Lilly." I shot her a helpless look. At first she just cocked her head puppy-dog style. Then she saw Charlie, seemed to get the picture, and waved me over.

"She can commme, too," Charlie slurred.

"Nah, that's okay. You go ahead, Oliver."

Charlie looked disappointed while Oliver just looked confused at what had just happened. But he nodded at me anyways. "Alright, I'll, uh, see you around?"

"Yeah, sounds great!"

I quickly skedaddled my way out of the situation and approached Lilly for the second time that night. She and Trevor were both giving me a sympathetic look.

"When you look at hot as you do tonight, that's gonna happen," Lilly giggled.

I smiled at her with a feint blush in my cheeks. "Thanks, Lilly."

"No probs, I was just gonna—" she stopped mid-sentence, her eyes gazing at something behind me. Confused, I turned around.

And across the room stood Jake freaking Ryan.

Something inside of me felt like it had been drained from me. As if I was suddenly missing an organ or something.

He hadn't seen me yet, or if he had, he was making no movement to get closer to me.

I snapped my head to Lilly, wide-eyed, not speaking, but still asking her what I should do.

"Um, uh—just stay facing this way!" she directed with a somewhat confident head nod. "We'll go—into this room over here. C'mon, Trevor!"

So we hurried into another room where a large group of people were playing some sort of card drinking game. They appeared annoyed at our entry, and I almost felt like inducing a game of 52-card pick-up, something that was probably even more "fun" when you're intoxicated.

"Do you think he saw me?" I asked Lilly worriedly, and she shook her head.

"No. He didn't seem like he did. I don't know what he's doing here. I didn't know he'd be here, I _swear_!"

"You and Jake got some history?" Trevor spoke up, and I awkwardly rubbed one of my arms.

"He's my ex…"

"Oh." Trevor nodded his head, seemingly like he understood when really, he had no idea.

"Yeah. Don't wanna run into him tonight," I said. "I'm here to have a good time, _not_ an awkward one."

"Jake's a loser," Lilly said bitterly. "He's very self-obsessed, too. Like, Trevor, he carries a mirror around with him. Seriously."

Trevor laughed. "Homo."

"Aaaand, Miley, I hate to tell you this, but when you were dating him… I once saw him take a picture of himself on his phone, and then admire it."

I giggled. "Oh my God."

"His head is bigger than Hulk's penis, I'm sure."

Both Trevor and I burst out laughing at Lilly's statement, and then she, too, joined us. Between spurts of giggles, she was like, "You wouldn't like him when he's angry… or maybe you would if you were a slut."

"Lilly! Stop it or I'm gonna pee myself!" I said, still shaking in amusement.

"But his penis has got to be _scary_ big when he's mad. And… it'd be green. Weiiird."

I squeaked more laughter, clutching at my stomach. "Lilly—I'm—haha—I'm gonna go to the bathroom."

"Alright, alright, I guess Trevor can entertain me for awhile."

"I don't have a green penis, but I'll do what I can," Trevor joked with a smirk, and I smiled at him before beginning to walk away. He seemed like an okay guy.

I didn't see Jake back in the previous room we had been, so that was a relief, but at the same time, at this point I had to go so bad that I truly didn't care anymore. I was set on finding a bathroom, and if Jake popped out of nowhere, I guess I'd have to pee on him instead.

I casually pushed myself through couples and people everywhere, before a door with a sign finally marked as "BATHROOM" appeared before me. I didn't think it was strange at the time that the door was slightly creaked open with the light on. I actually just thought someone forgot to shut it off, and the place was un-occupied.

Well, let me tell you, the thought did not last long.

As soon as I pushed the door forward to open it, I was met with a scene I'd not imagined in ten thousand years.

_Jake Ryan's_ bare back was to me, and his pants were off as he clenched onto some other chick in front of him, kissing her passionately as her hands trailed through his blonde locks of hair as I had did once.

My breath hitched in my throat, and my cheeks aflame, I began to back away from the bathroom before he could see me, when a very, _very_ recognizable tone called my name.

"Miley?"

I watched as her head peeked over Jake's shoulder, and my heart sunk even deeper because that face confirmed the recognizable voice.

_"A-Andrea?!"_

_

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**:O Ohhhhh snap! Whatchu think about dat? xD I'm not gangster... but fo'real dawgz, let me know yo' thoughts. ;) haha.**


	19. oh, the games we play

**I know it's been forever since I've updated. Please forgive me. Literally been working every weekday for like 7-8 hour shifts, and then every weekend I'm either in St. Louis or out in my pool or doing other stuff that isn't writing. :/ I've been a slacker. I have no good excuse. Feel free to throw tomatoes at me after this dud of a chapter. I kind of sped-wrote it cause I figured you guys have waited long enough…**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hannah Montana, but OMG SEASON FOUR SOON, HOLY SHIZ! I'm pumped! Even though Moliver has been dead forever, and probably will remain that way. OH WELL. It doesn't stop me.**

**HeartWare  
**by Broken Oken

_chapter eighteen: oh, the games we play_

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* * *

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My first reaction was to blink ten million times in a row, to really confirm that the girl in front of me was indeed Andrea Madison, not just a girl who looked a freakish amount of similar to her or something. She seemed to be battling the same kind of mind war as I was, though she wasn't doing the blinking part. Instead her eyes were frozen, just like her body. She was paused behind Jake's bare back—something I still couldn't believe was in front of me—and she was just _staring_ at me. As if _I_ was the insane one. As if_ I_ had just been the one caught red-handedly cheating.

I felt like throwing up. There wasn't any part of me that felt well at that moment. I didn't even feel like I had to go to the bathroom anymore. Vomiting felt more appropriate.

Jake had yet to turn himself around, and I wanted him to remain that way. He'd already heard Andrea call out my name, so I was sure that was proof enough for him to know that I was standing there. I hoped it was anyways, because I don't think I could look at his face either. Oliver was his _roommate_ for crying out—

Oh my God, _Oliver_.

I cringed and before I knew what I was doing, I started running. Part of me told me to run back and bitch-slap the both of them until they felt like it was God Himself punishing them. Another part of me was yelling to find Oliver and tell him that his bitch of a slutty-ass girlfriend was cheating on him.

My name was called another time, and as my automatic response, I slightly turned around and saw Andrea was running after me. She was looking frantic and wild-eyed… but oh, no, definitely _not_ sick. But Lilly had said she was sick! That she was throwing up in the bathroom—and that was definitely _not_ what she had been doing… she was about to be doing someth—some_one_ else.

"Miley!" she called for the millionth time, and my feet stopped moving. I should've kept running, towards the room where Oliver was so happily oblivious… how could she do this to him when she's in the _same fucking house as him?_

I didn't say anything when she was standing right behind me. I really didn't know what I wanted to say. Probably nothing. No words were required to take a fistful of her stupid curly hair and then slam her face down onto the ground.

"Miley—i-it wasn't… I—" Okay, so she obviously had no idea what to say either.

I turned around to face her, glaring. "You're—you're a two-timing _bitch_."

"It was a mistake!" she cried, sounding desperate for an excuse, and then her brown eyes peered around before meeting mine again. "I—I don't think clearly when I drink!"

She reached out to grab my arm, and I swung away from her disgustedly. "Oliver doesn't deserve this. He—he likes you, s-so much," I was stuttering now, from both the anger and sadness at the truth of my words. "And you—I can't even _look_ at you right now."

I turned away, gliding back to the room I'd last seen Oliver when I felt a hand pull me backwards from my shoulder. I fumed, spinning to see Andrea still standing there, her eyes now welling up with tears.

"Please, Miley, please—_don't_ tell him! It was a mistake! I'll tell him myself!"

"No you won't," I argued, deciding to place my hands on my hips, knowing if they were anywhere else, they'd be aiming for her throat.

"No! I will! I—I _promise_ you I will! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

"You shouldn't be apologizing to _me_," I hissed lowly, stepping back from her. "I'm going to go find Oliver." What seemed like the hundredth time, I went to exit the room but she pulled me back once more.

"Miley, I have to tell him myself! If—if you tell him, he's gonna think it was something that it wasn't—"

"What was it then?" I shouted into her face, all ready to tear it off at the same time.

"A mistake!" she cried out, a few tears now making their way down her cheeks.

"You're damn right it's a mistake," I cursed at her. "You've just lost the best guy I know, and possibly in the whole world."

Her hands flew to her face, and she sobbed heavily in them, and she was shaking. She curled her knees and sat herself right there in the middle of the empty room, and for a brief moment, I actually felt something that felt like sympathy for her. I was disgusted on how I could actually feel anything but hatred towards the psycho, but I did.

And then I realized why.

She was no different than Oliver.

No different than… _me._

Oliver had cheated on Andrea. With… _me_. And he hadn't told _her_ about it. And I wasn't about to tell her either…

This was the same situation, only in reverse.

I don't know what came over me, but I suddenly felt my legs moving towards Andrea, and crouching down next to her as she cried. And not in a threatening manner. I actually almost patted her back.

"Andrea," I said with a sigh. "You have to tell him."

She looked up at me with bloodshot eyes. "How? How do you break someone's heart? He's never going to look at me the same…"

I swallowed a lump in my throat. "Do… do you love him?"

She was silent, but she nodded. And my stomach cramped, nearly causing me to lose the balance in knees. We were both in love with the same guy. And she had him. And I was sitting here, comforting the bitch, when she was about to break my best friend's heart. And she _loved_ him. But she _couldn'_t love him. Not like I did. Because she—she _cheated_. You don't cheat on people you love, right?

So… does that mean Oliver doesn't love Andrea?

I had no idea what to think anymore.

"Then you're going to have to tell him… you have to be honest."

She nodded again, looking hard and determined to a random spot on a wall. "I will. Just… not tonight, okay? I'll tell him eventually. I just don't know when. Or how…"

I got to my feet. "You'll figure it out."

She stared up at me, slightly shaking her head. "I'm… sorry, Miley. Oliver always tells me you're nice… and you mean no harm. And, and I just didn't believe you guys were just friends. I'm sorry for being such a bitch. You really are a nice person."

My stomach cramped again. _Just friends_. Yeah. That was true at the beginning…. Now I wasn't such a nice person. In fact, just the opposite.

"I'll stop telling him to not hang out with you." She also brought herself back up to a standing position, rubbing at an eye. "I don't want you to lose your best friend."

My mouth ran dry, so I just did what she'd been doing earlier as a response, and nodded.

"Thanks… for not telling Oliver. It means a lot."

I didn't want to say, "No problem," because it was a huge one to me, and I wasn't about to lie at the moment when I already felt like a giant piece of shit from this "you're really a nice person, Miley," spiel Andrea was giving me.

So I was just like, "As long as you tell him."

"I will."

We stood there looking at each other awkwardly.

"Well, I guess I better go find Oliver," she said, sighing and wiping away some more tear streaks. "Or maybe Jake… I gotta clear that up, too…" she gave me a nervous look. "Are you—mad that it was… Jake?"

I shook my head. "No. That part didn't matter at all. I'm way over him." And I knew it was the truth because my voice didn't quiver at all. At least something good was coming out of this.

"Okay," she said, shuffling a foot around on the floor. "I'm going to go talk to him… I'll probably see you back in the other room in a little bit."

"Alright." This was the most conversation I'd ever made with the girl, and it was hard to come up with anything to say when there wasn't a problem at hand anymore. I mean, there _was_… but I had promised her.

She nodded and without another word, sped off back towards the bathroom, reminding me I still needed to go. But I guess I'd be going to find another. After I got that taken care of, I walked until I was back in the room with Lilly and Trevor. I immediately realized I had no idea how to act around anyone at the moment. The secret I'd been trusted with was so heavy and horrible, and it was just dying to break from my lips.

But I promised.

So when Lilly smiled at me and asked if I'd gotten myself lost, I just smiled back and said, "Yeah, something like that."

* * *

Somehow Oliver was missing. I had no idea where he'd run off to, and because I was so nervous at how I'd act around him, I found myself with a beer in my hand, sipping it shakily to calm me down. It tasted so bad, but I needed something to drink. I didn't even want to get drunk either. But I just couldn't handle this. And I'd need an excuse to act funny the next time we'd run into each other.

I found myself sort of chugging it when Andrea walked back into the room, spotting Lilly, Trevor, and I immediately.

She walked over casually, avoiding eyes with me completely I observed, and Kat greeted her with an excited, "Andrea! How are you feeling?"

She seemed to pale. "I've… felt better."

"No more throwing up then?" Trevor asked with a smile, which she returned uncomfortably. But I doubt either Lilly or Trevor noticed.

"Nope." She finally looked at me then, and I struggled to keep my expression at ease.

"That's good," I forced myself to say, and then Lilly sort of raised her eyebrows as if just picking up on something strange. Instantly I knew I had to change the atmosphere's mood. "So how about we all go down in the basement to go dancing?"

Andrea took my cue at once and nodded her head quickly. "Yeah, that sounds fun!"

Lilly blinked a few times, looking sort of suspicious before losing the expression all together to look up at Trevor. "Do… you wanna dance?"

He smiled. "I'm not too good at it, but I'll try if you want."

She giggled, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Trevor was _such_ a good distraction. If the two were to ever get married, I'd have to thank him for that later in his life.

Once we got downstairs, I discovered that it was where Oliver had disappeared to, and the beer in my hand flew instantly to my lips for a few more drinks. I wasn't sure what was about to go down, but I had a feeling it wasn't going to be pretty, even if he's not supposed to find out tonight.

Andrea had been leading the way, so, naturally, she blocked the rest of us from view, and so, he saw her first. A sort of relieved expression danced over his face.

"Babe! You're feeling better!" he called so happily that my heart lurched. Not only because he wasn't talking to me with that nickname, but because with that tone—he really liked her. You could just _hear_ the adoration… and she had just _cheated_ on him…

The alcohol in my system rose in my throat, and I somehow tripped on air, luckily having Trevor catch me before I hit the ground. Lilly gave me an odd look, and then I could somehow _feel_ Oliver looking at me.

And when I straightened myself, I saw I was right. He appeared concerned for a moment before finally smiling. I felt my body give a quiver. He _shouldn't_ be smiling. Keeping this promise was going to be harder than I thought.

"Little too much to drink there, Miles?" he asked, tilting his head towards the can in my hand, something I had momentarily forgotten about.

"Um, nope," I answered stupidly, taking a sip to prevent myself from talking further.

He laughed before turning to Andrea, who fidgeted when he did so. He didn't seem to care, and swung an arm around her waist, squeezing her until she giggled. But I heard the guilt in that laughter. It just didn't sound natural.

"Wanna dance?" he asked her, with a little bit of a slur, reminding me that Oliver had a lot more alcohol in his system than he was probably used to. And that any weird behavior Andrea and I would portray could easily be ignored. I never thought I'd want to thank someone for underage drinking, but there I was, doing it anyway.

She answered with some sort of positive reply, and the two wondered over to where other couples were grinding all against each other. Lilly shyly led Trevor out there as well, and together they danced uncomfortably in that cute, dorky kind of way.

I watched Oliver plant a soft kiss on Andrea's head as they slowly danced, and yet again, I downed another slurp of my beer.

And then, I realized I was alone.

And if Andrea and Oliver started getting all up on each other, I would not be able to handle it.

Some time passed and luckily nothing too gross was going on between them, but I was getting really bored. And the lights hung on the ceiling were looking a little more flashy somehow. And the can in my hand was empty.

"Need another?" some guy behind me asked, and I saw that it was Charlie, the guy that had approached me earlier that evening. He was currently bartending the cases of beer from a table set up near the wall.

I stared at him at first, knowing I definitely didn't need another because I'd already gone past my limit with only _one. _But then I glanced back to Oliver and Andrea to see them attached at the lips, her arms stroking his hair in a similar fashion to the way they'd been grasping Jake's earlier—

"Yes, please," I answered, the knot in my stomach feeling even larger than before. He handed me one, looking at me unsurely.

"You alright?"

"I'm fine," I said hastily, popping the can open as fast as I possibly could, causing a mystified expression on his face.

"You don't look fine."

"Well, I am, thanks for the beer." I took a heavy sip, ignoring its foreign and bitter taste like I'd been doing since the first one, and aimed my sights back to the dance floor. Oliver seemed to whispering stuff in Andrea's ear, and she was laughing all giddy and whatnot.

I really wanted to ruin the entire moment by grabbing her by the arm and being like, "OLIVER, SHE WAS CHEATING ON YOU WITH MY EX BOYFRIEND!" And another part of me would want to add, "Oh, and yeah, Andrea, Oliver cheated on you, too. But with ME."

This was ridiculous. I couldn't stand here by myself not dancing for too much longer. I looked like a complete loser.

Suddenly Oliver's attention was directed toward me, and I stopped mid-sip in my drink to gaze back at him. There was this strange grin on his face, alien to any other I'd ever seen, so I figured it just must be a drunken smile since I wasn't familiar with those quite yet. He looked at me for maybe two seconds before going right back to Andrea, and he pulled her closely to him, hand gliding towards her butt.

And then, his eyes shifted over to me. And something… clicked.

He was _wanting_ me to watch. Like—like actually _wanting_ me to watch. As if putting on a show for me. Like he _knew _it was bothering me to watch their bodies touch the way they were.

Like… he wanted me to be _jealous_.

But you know, maybe it was the alcohol telling me this. Misinforming me, you know?

I shook my head and crossed my arms, pretending to be absorbed in the ceiling. But out of the corner of my eye, I saw him turn Andrea so that her back was facing me. Curious, I couldn't help but look to see what he was doing, and that was when he put his lips to her shoulder slowly… a _very_ sexual move indeed.

And what do you know—he looked at me _again._

He did want me jealous. He _did!_ He _wanted _me to stand there, looking miserable and annoyed! I couldn't let him get away with this bullshit.

I gulped down the rest of my beer so fast that I got a little dizzy. I tossed the can somewhere—who knows—and marched back to where Charlie was standing next to the cases of beer, looking bored.

I grabbed him by the arm once he was within reach, and he jumped in alarm.

"What are you doing?" he asked, sounding baffled.

"You think I'm pretty, right?" I bluntly asked, knowing that it had to be the beer that gave me such confidence.

"Uh… yeah, you're fucking hot," he answered very distastefully, and I rolled my eyes.

"So let's dance."

I pulled him to the dance floor, something he didn't seem to be declining, and the bright lights enveloped me. I positioned myself so that Oliver would gain a perfect view of anything I would do—he had a clear path to where Charlie and I were standing, just the way I wanted it.

Charlie was pretty eager to get this going; he immediately put his hands around my waist to drag me into him. Instinctively, I cringed and sort of pulled away until I saw that Oliver was looking over at me with his eyes narrowed a bit.

And then I pushed myself back onto Charlie, causing a gross, toothy grin below his nose.

And he began to rock his hips a little against me. I felt like I should probably shower—I had never actually grinded with someone before—but when I saw Oliver staring a second time, my tipsy self though, "_Ah, screw it_!" and I started to swing my hips as well in sync.

I kept my eyes on Oliver as we began to dance, and he looked pretty horrified. But then he spun Andrea around, placing her back to his front, and slid his hands down her stomach towards her thighs slowly. She was smiling in delight, and I wanted to kill her.

He had to be doing this on purpose. He just _had_ to.

I quickly turned around to have Charlie grind against my back, and knowing that Oliver couldn't possibly _not_ be looking at this point, I lowered myself to the floor and slowly brought myself back up. Charlie's hands wandered happily over the lower area of my stomach. Oh yeah, he, uh, he was getting turned on… ew.

Oliver was probably getting turned _off _on the other hand with how pissed off he looked right then. His anger transformed into determinism when he put a hand to Andrea's head, dragging her face back towards her, and then he pointblank kissed her.

I knew that I couldn't outdo that unless I kissed Charlie, too. And he wasn't even that attractive—physically or personality wise. I didn't really want to kiss him at all.

But what's weird about beer is that it causes me not think situations over as much as I think I should.

Because I just suddenly sprung my self at Charlie and kissed him hardcore.

He was frankly, the worst kisser I'd ever experienced.

I'm not sure what he was trying to do—it felt like he was seeing how much of my face he could cover in his slobber, or maybe he was just trying to bite my face off or something. Either way, I was disgusted. His tongue plunged into my mouth so unnaturally, and I knew that this was bound to be something I was going to regret later.

Was I really this desperate to play jealousy games with Oliver? I mean, I didn't even know if he was jealous in the first place. Why would he be anyways? He'd already gotten to experience kissing me, and apparently it hadn't been good enough because here he was, macking on his cheating little girlfriend in front of me.

When I finally pulled back from kissing—okay, it couldn't even be called kissing—Charlie, I noticed that neither Oliver nor Andrea were in the spot anymore. Looking around, I also noticed that they weren't even in the basement. Lilly and Trevor had also vanished into thin air.

I'd won! I'd won the game! Well, if we'd been playing one, anyways.

But now I didn't feel so good about it. I'd just made out with a complete stranger. Oh. My. God. Did that make me a… _a slut?_

When I looked back at Charlie, he looked lovestruck. Oh no.

"Wow," was what he said, dazedly. "That was incredible."

"I wish I could say the same." I had thought I'd only said the words in my mind, but again, the beer decided it needed to be spoken aloud instead. Charlie's brows furrowed together, and not wanting to be around him any longer, I high-tailed it to the stairs in search of my friends.

I found Trevor first, but oddly without Lilly. I walked up to him anyways. I actually kind of felt wobbly.

"Trevor?" I asked, and he saw me, eyebrows raised. "Where's Lilly?" I took another step in my heels and stumbled, and for a second time that night, Trevor caught me by the arm.

"Whoa, Miley, are you okay?"

"Yessss!" I said exasperatedly. "Where's Lilly"

"In the bathroom." He stared at me. "We need to get you home. Lilly and I are leaving when she gets back; we'll walk you there."

"Where's Oliver?"

He pointed with a head nod to the left side of the room. Andrea was conversing animatedly with two other girls, and there was Oliver, looking in this direction. And oh, _wow_, he looked pissed.

I started walking that way, and like he was my reflection in a mirror, he began walking to me, too, and met me halfway.

"What the hell were you doing?" he whisper-shouted at me, and I shrunk a little.

"What?"

"Don't play dumb. You just _made out_ with Charlie. And you don't even know him."

"Yeah, so?" I looked at him square in the eye, and he looked flabbergasted at my words.

"Miley, you were acting like a _whore_."

I gasped and hit him on the shoulder, for once not in a playful kind of manner. "What the hell, Oliver? I was not!"

He remained immobile to my shove and just continued to glower. "Yes you were! You were all up on him, too. I've never seen you act like that!"

I scrunched my face at him. "Why do _you_ care?"

"I'm trying to look out for you, to stop you from doing bad things!"

"Oh yeah, 'cause you're _soooo_ innocent," I said sarcastically. "If I do recall, I'm not the one going around kissing other girls when I have a _girlfriend_."

He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing seemed to be coming out.

I smirked in success. "Tell me something, OliveJar. You're just jealous."

"Of _what_ exactly?"

I shook my head. "Oh, and _I'm_ the one playing dumb… right."

He lowered his voice, "Are you saying I'm jealous of some other guy kissing you?"

The drunkenness within me caused me to step a little closer than necessary to him, so that our noses were almost brushing.

"_I am_," I whispered, and he tensed a little bit.

There was a moment of silence, and it appeared that he was going to reply when Andrea came up, looking at me with a frantic look in her eyes.

I was confused until I realized she probably thought we were discussing her—like I'd already told Oliver about what had gone down earlier in the evening.

"Andrea," Oliver coughed awkwardly, and she eyed me questionably first, and I just half-smiled, hoping that it was enough proof to show that we'd not said anything about her… except that Oliver had cheated on her, of course.

"What's up?" she asked kind of slowly.

"Nada," I waved my hand. "Just chit-chattin'."

Oliver gave me a quick, dark look before putting an arm around Andrea's shoulder. "Yep…" he said it just as slowly as Andrea's question.

I tried not to scowl at his arm draped around her all protectively. "Well, I'm going to go home now," I said defiantly. "So you guys have a nice night."

"You too," Andrea said with a little bit of a nervous shake in her voice, and I nodded at her before looking at Oliver to see how his face would react to my leaving announcement.

It was twisted into some kind of mixture of fury and maybe disappointment. Perhaps some relief in there somewhere, too.

"Night, Miley," he said, not without bitterness.

"Night," I said snobbishly and walked back over to Trevor, where Lilly was back standing with him.

I didn't look back once to Oliver or Andrea on our way out of the party. I didn't need to. I knew he was looking so I didn't need to check. I'd seen the way he was looking at me when I'd accused him of being jealous. There was guilt written all over his face. Oliver Oken was jealous, and I intended on getting him to admit it.

* * *

I nearly passed out right when I returned to my dorm, and figured it must've been the alcohol causing me to feel so crappy. Lilly was trying to talk to me about the goodnight kiss she'd shared with Trevor before he'd dropped us off, but I couldn't even listen. My head was pounding, and all I wanted was sleep.

The last thing I remembered before my eyelids shut was Kat asking me, "So are you and Andrea friends now or something? You guys were oddly civil to each other tonight."

And I believe I said something like, "She likes to stand in two boats at once." And then, realizing what I said, added, "When she fishes, I mean. Er, you know… I'm drunk."

And being the classy lady I am, I passed out right then and there, party clothes and all.

* * *

**Haha, this sucked. If you liked anything, let me know. And also, what do you want to happen next chapter? Like, don't suggest major plot-twisters or anything, just small stuff… I need ideas to get me to chapter twenty… cause I am majorly stuck. K, thanks, bye!**


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